The Goddess Page 8

  “I’ll do that.” His hand on her arm, he guided her out the room. “You can bring me a pan.”

  They had lunch without either one mentioning the broken goblet. In fact, they hardly spoke at all. By bedtime, however, Darius seemed to have put the episode out of his mind; Helene only wished she could. How old were those goblets? How much were they worth? A splinter of glass had embedded in her heel. Every little throb worked to remind her and ramp up the guilt.

  When Darius emerged from the bathroom, his broad chest on display above a pair of low-slung drawstring pants and his dark hair wet and tousled, she was propped against the headrest. One leg was crooked over the other knee while she tried to find that splinter.

  “I must have trod on a piece of glass,” she explained, as he unfurled himself like a big muscled cat along the bottom end of the bed. Sitting straighter, she put down her foot. She had to ask. “Was that glass very expensive?” Was it hundreds of years old?

  “That set was handed down to my sister from my mother.”

  Helene groaned. “Tahlia will hate me.”

  “My mother broke one a couple of years ago. Last time she was here, Tahlia broke one herself. She was upset—”

  “Terrific.”

  “But she was also adamant she wanted them used. They aren’t heirlooms. I’m not certain where my mother picked them up but they were always on the table when we visited here as a family. Tahlia will understand.” His face turned wry. “Although it’d be another story if I broke one.”

  He dropped a kiss on the top of her foot but as his thumb grazed the underside, he hit the splinter, and she jerked.

  “I’m sure your sister loves you,” she said.

  “She would love having me out of her hair. She’s probably organized a string of midnight rendezvous with Otis. If Yanni weren’t around to keep an eye out I’d be worried.”

  When his fingertip crossed that tender spot beneath her heel, she tried not to flinch. “You mentioned the boy—Otis? He works for you?”

  “He’s one of two head grooms with our stables.”

  “A good worker?”

  “He understands our horses and their needs. I was fond of him.”

  “Was?”

  He grazed the shard again and she squirmed. “It’s complicated.”

  “Teenage love always is.”

  He slid off the bed and returned to the room with a pair of tweezers. “From Tahlia’s bathroom,” he explained, stretching out along the foot of the bed again. “These past weeks since coming home from boarding school, my sister’s been a different person. Defiant. Moody. At least she is with me.”

  “Want some advice? Give her some slack. Then she won’t need to defend herself so much.”

  “Guardians need to be firm,” he said, concentrating on her heel. “Children expect boundaries.”

  He pinched the tweezers and Helene swallowed a yelp. “Maybe you should let me have a go with those.”

  “Sit still.” Adjusting his grip, he focused again.

  “Tahlia isn’t a child,” she told him as he tilted her foot the other way to take advantage of the light. “She’s a young woman with feelings.”

  “Hearts shouldn’t rule heads.”

  Helene couldn’t push aside the pang. It was pretty clear he’d been thinking with a head other than the one on his shoulders these past days.

  “You’re worried she’ll make the same mistake your uncle made,” she said. “That your sister might choose a personal life over anything royal one day.”

  He held her foot more firmly and stuck his nose even closer. “If you’re trying to make a case for me to loosen some reins, you’re not doing so well.” Darius hesitated then pinned her with a look. “You don’t think they’d elope, do you?”

  “I only know you can’t stop an eighteen-year-old from being who she wants to be. Not in this day and age.”

  “Offering her an education, and at one of the best universities in the world, isn’t exactly proposing torture.”

  “Might as well be if she’s separated from the one person she wants to be with. How long have they been seeing each other?”

  “A matter of months, but they’ve known each other for years. Otis’s father worked for us before he had an accident that laid him up. Otis was partway through an animal science degree in the UK when he came back.”

  “What about a compromise? You could suggest Tahlia take a gap year. See more of the world and discover more about herself.”

  “Like you?”

  “Like a lot of people. Only my gap time came after finishing college, not before.”

  “How did your mother feel about that?”

  “I’m an adult, Darius.” As was Tahlia. “I live my own life.”

  The tweezers pinched. When they let go, she eased out her breath.

  “Was your mother worried you’d run off for good?”

  “She was worried I’d make the same mistake she made.” Like Darius was worried Tahlia would make the same mistake as their uncle.

  “What mistake was that?”

  She hesitated. But if he wanted to know… “She got pregnant.”

  The tweezers pulled back. The splinter came out, and at the same time Darius eyed her. After two beats, he moved off the bed then studied the tweezers in his hand. “I’ll get rid of this.”

  It was an hour before he returned. He had no doubt been meditating and thinking over the future again. When he eased carefully into his side of the bed, Helene was curled up facing the other way. She didn’t fall asleep until dawn.

  Chapter Ten

  She watched him stir to wakefulness, stretching those big arms high before rolling over. As if guided by primordial radar, he brought her near. His chest rumbled while a hot palm wove down her back, over her behind, then up again until, eyes still closed, he cupped her nape and his mouth, hinting at a smile, claimed hers.

  This had been their ritual these past few mornings, but today was different. This was their last day at the villa. This was the last time they would lie together in this bed. Emotion filled Helene’s chest and throat. She hadn’t realized she’d be so unprepared for it.

  As doves cooed from the nest built outside that orchard-facing window, Darius slowly broke their kiss. His drowsy gaze roamed her face before, brows knitting, he brushed hair from her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked in that husky after-dreams voice she loved.

  “Just listening to the doves,” she said.

  And wondering when that boat will come or how I’ll say good-bye to this time.

  He looked at her more deeply. It wouldn’t have been difficult to read her thoughts.

  “This isn’t over. You’re staying with me when we get back, remember?” He brought her closer and growled. “I’m not ready to let you sail out of my life just yet.”

  When the pad of his thumb slid over her lower lip, Helene fell forward and let his mouth slant over hers again.

  “I have a trip to take next week,” he said after his lips had left hers. “An overnight stay in Paris. Seems a friend has gotten himself engaged. Want to come?”

  An overnight stay in Paris with Darius? It sounded like a dream. “Will there be evening gowns involved? I have a limited wardrobe.”

  “Let me take care of that.”

  She shivered and melted as his hand skimmed over her shoulder and halfway down her back. “You must get amazing invitations like that all the time,” she said with her eyes closed as she brushed her cheek over his.

  “Not out of the blue like this one. It’s the reason I pushed my stay here forward.”

  “Seems as if your friend fell very hard and very fast.”

  “Seems so.”

  Helene didn’t miss the note of hesitation in his voice. So, was the friend the impulsive type? Did Darius disapprove of the fiancée? Perhaps he wondered at the speed of that announcement. Had he assumed “baby on the way?” Or did that thought come from mulling over their own uncertain situation?

 
Beyond the window, one set of wings flapped at the same time his cell phone rang. His long arm swept over to retrieve the phone off the side-table. He read the text and exhaled deeply.

  “Our boat will be here in two hours,” he said.

  Her throat tightened. She swept a gaze around the room. That soon?

  “I thought we’d have a little longer,” she murmured.

  At least until after lunch. It was probably best to get this over with but when she tried to shift, the powerful arm over her waist kept her still, and his nose came close to play with hers.

  “We don’t need to rush.”

  When he pressed her close, and his touch began to trail over her dips and curves, thoughts of the boat drifted from Helene’s mind. As he tasted her breasts, her ribs, and her belly, she surrendered to the liquid heat building in her veins and to the pulse beating at her core.

  Two big hands scooped underneath her behind before his tongue twirled around her navel then flicked a sensual path lower. He caressed and kissed her there until her heart began to pound and her fingers knotted and tugged his hair. She felt his smile against her skin as he drew that hyper-sensitive bead into his mouth and lightly sucked and stroked her.

  Her toes curled. Heat-waves ribboned through her system. When she began to quiver, he drew away. The wiry hair on his chest grazied over thighs and breasts as he slid up. After he manipulated her onto her other side, he pressed in against her back.

  His lips dragged down from her earlobe to her shoulder before his teeth slowly danced the other way up. Easing out a sigh, she ground her lower-half back to rub his erection as his hand curled over her head. He urged her face toward his and kissed her deeply while his other palm brushed her breasts, tickling the tips with each sweep.

  “I love waking up with you,” he murmured against her lips. “I love how you feel, how you smell, how you taste.”

  His fingers threaded between her legs at the same time his hips pushed into her. A moment later, he shifted to find a condom and sheath himself. Then he draped her top leg over his thigh. Dropping kisses on her temple and on her cheek, he eased her folds open and made doubly sure she was ready. His thigh wedged between her legs and he entered her, filling her with one flawless thrust.

  She caught her breath, eased it out, and then coiled an arm back to cowl his neck. As he moved inside of her, she sunk against him and gave herself over to the swirl of sensations.

  His words were warm and deep against her ear. “I really don’t want to leave this place.”

  Oh God, neither did she. She wanted to stay here forever with Darius. Just like this. But they had another two weeks. Another fourteen days before…before—

  When the orgasm hit, she gasped, shook, and automatically began to fold into herself. But Darius’s hand kept her against him. He kept them joined and locked together.

  Then he climaxed, too, holding her so tight that his rough cheek pressed against hers and the steam of his body surrounded her. In that moment, her mind was filled only with the illusion—the wish—that this was how it would always be.

  …

  They were on the balcony enjoying a final cup of coffee when Darius spotted the boat heading their way. Setting the cup aside, he found his feet.

  “They’ll be here soon. I’ll pack the figurine.”

  Helene hadn’t asked about the logistics of transporting the artifact to the main island. She only knew that no one other than Darius, his uncle, Yanni Kostas, and she were certain of her existence. One day she hoped Darius would find a way to move outside the confines of that tradition and share the figurine with the world. Until then she’d stay mum.

  Returning from her quarters with her packed knapsack and the pages she’d found, she saw movement in the study. Kneeling on the floor, Darius was opening a briefcase-type container. A moment later, he lifted the figurine down into the molded case. Before closing the lid, he gave her one last look. So did Helene.

  Joining her in the main room, Darius cupped and nuzzled her cheek.

  “All packed?” he asked.

  “Do you think I could bring these along?” She showed him the sheets of paper. “I thought Tahlia might like them.”

  “Sure.” He nodded toward the study and that monstrous oak desk. “Should be some folders in there. You don’t want the wind ripping those out of your hand on the sail back. I’ll meet you at the front door in five.”

  Standing at the desk, she slid open the first drawer. Stationery. The second drawer held documents that couldn’t have been touched in decades. The third drawer contained a stash of personal cards secured by a perishing rubber band. The fourth and final drawer was empty except for some unused writing blocks.

  No folders, but if she slid the old pages into the middle of a writing block, her gift to Tahlia should be protected. When she heaped them all out onto the floor, though, the base of the drawer seemed to spring back a little.

  She pushed down on the drawer’s base again. Ever so slightly, it bobbed back up. From the main room, Darius called out.

  “You almost ready?”

  “Be right there,” she called.

  After bobbing the base again, she tried to pry her nails in either side to lever the base out. No luck. Biting her lip, she made a fist and, hoping the base would dislodge, lightly gaveled her hand against the timber. She did it a second time, a third.

  “Helene,” Darius called out, “we need to leave.”

  Dragging a hand over her hair, she leaned back on her heels. Whether she’d been onto something or not, she was out of time. But halfway up, an idea struck.

  With her legs spread either side of those drawers, she gripped the strip of slim panel nearest the floor and tugged.

  The panel popped off and she fell onto her back. Springing onto hands and knees, she checked the cavity. Inside lay a dozen pages of the same vintage as the others.

  Before Darius could call again, Helene gathered the additional pages, slid them between the pages of the writing block and, feeling elated, headed out.

  Chapter Eleven

  A splendid sixty-foot sailboat docked at the pier in an adjacent bay. The crew looked like the epitome of masters of the sea. Each man acknowledged Darius with a deep bow then a bright smile. But when they clapped eyes on Helene and her grubby, pint-sized knapsack, their expressions darkened.

  As she moved forward, the writing block pressed to her chest, Helene’s skin began to crawl.

  Had the crew been briefed to expect another passenger? If so, they’d most likely know she’d been hired to care for domestic needs. But Darius didn’t treat her like a maid. While he didn’t show any overt signs of affection, he made certain she stood beside him and personally helped her aboard. Holding his oversized briefcase in one hand, he escorted her to one side of the boat.

  Feeling numerous pairs of eyes upon her, she tried her best to appear unaffected as the vessel slid out onto a sun-jeweled sea. While she drank in her final glimpse of paradise and slid the block into the front compartment of her knapsack, beside her Darius pointed out a pod of dolphins.

  “It’s a good omen,” he told her.

  She murmured, “If you say so.”

  Ahead of the bow, a dolphin leapt so high and far it seemed to fly. His dark hair ruffling in the wind, Darius gave her a thoughtful look. “Nervous?”

  “A little.” A lot.

  “Just think. You’re starting on another adventure.” He tugged her close. “My sister will adore you.”

  Too soon, the smudge on the horizon became an island and then the blue and slate roofs patterning the rocky hillsides came into focus. As the dolphins guided them into the bay, the impression of a crowd congregated on the dock also took shape. Her face cool from the salty breeze and back warmed by the sun, Helene clutched the rail as they cruised into port while a collective cheer wafted over the teal-ribboned sea to meet them.

  Along the narrow cobblestone streets, people of all ages were on the move, eager to welcome their sovereign home from his
important time away. And as the boat docked and Darius waved to the gathering crowd, more cheers filled the air, and hats flew. When the gangplank lowered, Darius turned to her.

  “Wait here. I’ll have someone fetch you.”

  Rather than give her a kiss, he squeezed her arm and, before she could respond, he was off and heading down that gangplank. As he stopped on the dock before the crowd, a uniformed guard advanced to cover his back with their rifles at rest by their sides. A middle-aged man—bald with wire-framed glasses and a tailored white suit—appeared. With a discreet move, he relieved Darius of the case and its precious cargo. Yanni Kostas, Helene decided—Darius’s right-hand man.

  Darius spoke in Yanni’s ear and the older man flicked a covert glance her way. The two men exchanged more words. Finally Darius nodded, the man moved off, and an elderly woman came forward to hold her monarch’s hand. Next, a girl, perhaps eight and dressed in her Sunday best, offered a bouquet of wild flowers. Others came forward, too, but while excitement undulated over the crowd, no one overstepped their mark. There was no hint of a crush.

  Helene noticed a woman in the crowd—a tourist or possibly a backpacker like herself. The woman’s focus was fixed upon Darius as she angled this way and that snapping endless shots. For an instant, Helene imagined she was that woman, just part of the crowd enjoying the moment rather than the person waiting well back from that deck rail and feeling way out of her depth.

  From her vantage point, Helene watched a magnificent ceremonial carriage weave down from Sangros Hill. As the clop of hooves grew louder, the crowd parted, and the carriage reined in close to Darius. With another wave to the crowd, he ascended the open carriage step and made himself comfortable behind the uniformed driver. When Darius was well on his way back up the hill and to the palace, the crowd dispersed.

  Helene, however, stood frozen. Darius had asked her to wait. He’d said someone would fetch her. Who? When? Perhaps he’d meant Alexio, although she hadn’t spotted her friend or his family in the crowd. Now, with everyone returning to their business, she felt strangely out of place—invisible—as if she were standing on the other, darker side of a giant gilded mirror.