'I keep the evidence in the safe,' he revealed.
Sarah smoothed her damp palms down over her skirt and held her head high. She was not afraid—no, she was not afraid that he could show her anything that might damage her faith in her late sister!
She waited by the edge of his desk, her stomach churning sickly with tension and the extent of her dis-tress. Damon had been married... Damon had been married from the outset! That in itself was a severe shock. But what was even more shocking was that Alex appeared to believe that Sarah and Callie had known that fact!
Alex fanned out a selection of glossy colour photos on the highly polished surface of the desk. 'They were taken in Oxford. Androula and the children flew over to spend a few weeks with Damon.'
Sarah's eyes fell on the uppermost photo and it was as though someone had punched her in the kidneys. Callie was standing beside a dark-haired young woman and each of them held the hand of a dark-haired little girl, one toddler size, the other possibly four or five years old. Everybody was smiling like mad. Sarah felt physically sick.
A long forefinger skimmed that photo out of reach and lined up the rest. Callie featured in all of them, playing with the children in a park or some such place, and in the final one she was sitting on a swing beside Damon, each of them with a child on their lap. Finally Sarah turned her head away, shutting out the photos.
'Andy mislaid one of my nieces in a shop and your sister found her. That's how they met,' Alex divulged with raw derision. 'Andy made the mistake of taking her home to dinner... and then she babysat for them once or twice. My sister-in-law returned to Greece, leaving your sister with a clear field.'
To accept that Callie had known all along that Damon was a married man, had indeed even met his wife, been befriended by her, trusted by her and had played with their daughters... it was a shock of such resounding savagery that Sarah was utterly silenced for several long seconds, the victim of immense pain and guilt. Dear God, where had she herself gone wrong in raising Callie? Where had the voice of conscience been when Callie embarked on such an affair? 'She was only eighteen... she did love him.' Sarah wasn't talking to Alex. She was reasoning with herself, seeking a defence for the sister she loved, the sister she had believed she understood. 'And heaven knows he encouraged her. The first time I met Damon he said that he loved her and he wanted to marry her-----'
'Damon denies that there was ever any discussion of marriage.'
'He's lying... Dear lord, she lied too!' Sarah conceded painfully. 'How long has Damon been married?'
'Since he was nineteen. Andy was eighteen. It was not my wish. Indeed I strongly advised them to wait. Damon was far too young,' Alex admitted flatly. 'But Vivien supported them and my father saw no reason to withhold his consent.'
Sarah folded her arms protectively round herself, still white as a sheet, still in shock.
'You might as well have these. Unopened, you will note.' Alex extended a bundle of letters. Callie's letters. Sarah recognised her sister's copper-plate neat handwriting on the envelopes.
'He never received them,' Sarah whispered.
'I did not believe that she was pregnant,' Alex reminded her shortly.
'He did! You had no right to withold those letters,' Sarah told him tremulously. 'Callie wasn't some Mata Hari who seduced him away from home and hearth! She was a teenager and he was a lot older! Whether he was married or not, Callie was also his responsibility...'
Alex dealt her a sardonic appraisal. 'I am not my brother.'
'But you interfered-----'
'There were innocent children involved as well as the peace and stability of my entire family,' Alex spelt out, defending his own behaviour with neither apology nor regret. 'It has always been my opinion that it is the woman's place to say no-----' 'You hypocritical-----!' Sarah slung up at him.
'Your sister knew that Damon was married. She made her choice... and my brother made his. He went back to his wife.'
Sarah passed an unsteady hand over her throbbing temples.
'Dinner,' Alex reminded her drily from the door.
'I'm not hungry any more... I think I'll go to bed,' she mumbled.
'Alone... on our wedding night?'
Sarah's dazed eyes connected involuntarily with smouldering gold and it was as though he had jerked a string and she was a puppet. Every muscle jerked tight, every nerve-ending quivered with suicidal energy. I'm not feeling well, she thought; that's why I feel peculiar.
'I'll be up later,' Alex murmured very softly, and swung on his heel. 'I just can't wait for you to lie back and think of the greater glory of Greece.'
'I beg your pardon?'
But she was talking to an empty room.
CHAPTER SIX
Sarah lay back in the vast bed, her eyes trained rigidly on the door. He'd been joking—of course he had been joking, most probably trying to deprive her of a good night's sleep. A man had to be sexually attracted to a woman to want to make love to her. Alex was not attracted to her. That compartment in Alex's life was already filled to overflowing with willing and no doubt beautiful women. He had a lousy sense of humour. It was not as though she was his wife... not his real wife.