Aristide was even more passionate than usual that night and Tabby submersed herself in the passion and refused to think about anything serious because she was so angry with him. As if she would simply move in casually with him because she was pregnant! That wasn’t for her, that would never be for her. He had to want her forher, not for the babies inside her. She didn’t want to stray into a live-in relationship with Aristide that then broke down because it was only a fleeting notion on his part. It infuriated her that Aristide did not see her as having choices when, in reality, she had nothing but choices to make.
The next morning, she was surprisingly calm over breakfast on the veranda overlooking the cove. And there out to sea in deeper water sat a very large, opulent white yacht that was all sweeping decks and layers. ‘Is that it?’ she asked.
‘Yes, my friends won’t be arriving until the weekend so we’ll have a few days alone first.’
‘And then I’ll be going home and all this…’ she spread her arms in an expansive gesture that embraced the deep blue water washing the sandy shore below them, the fabulous house behind them and the yacht anchored in the cove ‘…all this will seem like a beautiful dream.’
Of course, it was different for Aristide because Anthos was home to him. But Tabby loved simply being with Aristide. He had so much power over her emotions that it frightened her. Didn’t he realise that what they had found together was rare?
The following five days were a whirlwind of activity. She had packed with greater care than usual and at a slower speed, not wishing to find herself underdressed or missing anything once they were on the yacht.Sea Breezewas every bit as luxurious as it had looked from shore.
They sailed to Corfu, where Aristide took her shopping, strolling old cobblestoned streets between the historic Venetian buildings. She wore a classic cream sundress and the heat seemed to seep into her very bones, stealing her tension, making her work even harder to suppress the fact that soon she would be leaving the man she had recklessly fallen in love with. The day after that they landed on Rhodes, visited some ancient ruins and lunched in the medieval old town in a shaded garden. He insisted on buying her a new watch in a very upmarket shop where he was waited on as though he were royalty. The jewels on the face shone with blinding glitter in the sunshine that flooded the hotel room where he took her to literally ravish her in the late afternoon.
The uncontrollable hunger between them had not abated one little bit, in fact she thought it might be addictive so that surrendering to that overpowering desire once only made it easier to do again the next time it struck. It was like living a dream to have Aristide all to herself and to be the sole focus of his attention. As long as she didn’t look into her empty future she was deliriously happy while she was still with him.
On Crete they walked the Venetian city walls, revelling in the fantastic views. On Santorini they watched a spectacular sunset and dined in a cliffside village where the views made her dizzy but the food melted in her mouth. It was idyllic and she was enjoying every moment of their time together. The boundaries between what was fake and what was real in their engagement seemed to have magically melted away.
But then she had deliberately let go of those boundaries. She had decided to make the most of their last week together and forget that theirs was a temporary arrangement. She had made the most of her happiness and his and would leave awash with wonderful memories.
On the fifth day Aristide’s friends arrived, a married couple in their thirties, an Italian industrialist and his wife. Both were charming and great fun. They landed on Mykonos, lay on the beach and swam and then dined before taking advantage of the vibrant nightlife to visit a club. They rose late the next morning, sunbathed on deck while the yacht cruised on to Naxos, where Aristide’s guests disembarked to travel home, and finally they arrived back on Anthos.
They breakfasted on the veranda, where she drank in the beautiful views, conscious that she was leaving that evening to return home and would presumably never enjoy that sweeping, stunning view of the sea again. There was an odd tension between them and then Aristide’s stepmother drove up to take Tabby with her to the new art gallery in the village. Aristide looked mildly irritated by her arrival but did not object.
‘I’ll see you later,’ Aristide remarked before stalking back into the house.
‘Did I interrupt something?’ Andy murmured, always intuitive.
‘I don’t think so, but I can’t stay out long because I have to pack and I don’t want to leave anything behind.’
‘Where are you going?’ Andy enquired with interest.
‘Back to London this evening. This has been a wonderful holiday but I have to get back to work,’ Tabby replied.
‘I rather thought that Aristide was hoping to change your mind on that score,’ his stepmother admitted.
Tabby reminded herself that she was supposed to be Aristide’s real fiancée as far as his family was concerned. ‘Not much chance of that at the moment,’ she said lightly, wondering if Aristide’s father had been expecting a wedding announcement or something of that ilk before she departed again. It was best to play dumb.
‘You know…’ The older woman hesitated before continuing. ‘Imogen left a lot of damage in her wake. He had such total faith in her and then that was ripped away from him and I suspect he has trust issues—’
‘Don’t we all?’ Tabby countered without any expression at all but she meant it.
Aristide had trust issues, as did she, but hers had softened since Aristide had proved his reliability. But then she had already surmounted the problems of enduring a violent, unpredictable and uninterested father and her resulting innate distrust of men. Not all men were the same. Sam Blessington was just a bad apple in the barrel. But essentially she had moved on under her own power to embrace the best life she could make for herself without letting herself be restricted by the unhappy events during her childhood and adolescence. Aristide still had to make that leap and she couldn’t do it for him. He needed to move forward alone, willing to change for her benefit.
They entered the gallery, Aristide’s stepmother immediately leaving her side to go upstairs in search of the owner, who was sourcing a specific metal sculpture for her husband Demetrius’ birthday. Tabby lingered by the pottery, which was Violet’s particular love, but she could see nothing unique enough to attract her twin’s acquisitive urge. The door behind her opened, the tap-tap of stilettos making her turn round and then wish she hadn’t.
Imogen, clad in a very sleek black dress, aimed her megawatt famous smile at her, golden hair shimmering in waves round her slender shoulders. ‘Oh, this is convenient. You’ve saved me from having to visit my landlord.’ Scooping keys from her trendy little bag, she extended them. ‘The keys to my grandparents’ cottage. I’m returning them as per the agreement.’
‘They’re nothing to do with me,’ Tabby said uneasily.
‘Oh, don’t be silly. You’relivingwith Aristide, aren’t you?’ she pressed, tossing the keys, forcing Tabby to catch them. ‘I wish you well of him. He’ll never love anyone the way he loved me.’
Tabby lost colour and turned away. ‘Goodbye, Imogen.’
Andy came clattering down the wooden stairs to the rescue and Imogen turned on her heel and stalked out, the door slamming on her exit.
‘What am I supposed to do with these?’ Tabby shook the keys in exasperation.
‘Celebrate. She must’ve finished clearing the place and now she’s leaving.’ Andy sighed in relief. ‘Now we won’t be running into her all the time.’
