Conveniently His Omnibus(43)

‘Why are you laughing at me?’ she demanded in chagrin as she saw the mirth crinkling Andreas’s eyes and a gust of warmly amused male laughter filled the small space between them.

‘Saskia, for a woman of your experience you can be very, very naive. You should never suggest to any man, and most especially not a Greek one, that he may not be able to father a son!’

As the plane suddenly started to lift into the sky Saskia automatically clutched at her armrests, and then tensed in shock as she felt the hard male warmth of Andreas’s hand wrapping around her own.

‘Scared of flying?’ he asked her in amusement. ‘You shouldn’t be. It’s the safest form of transport there is.’

‘I know that,’ Saskia responded waspishly. ‘It’s just...well, it’s just that flying seems so...so unnatural, and if...’

‘If God had intended man to fly he’d have given him wings,’ Andreas offered her wryly. ‘Well, Icarus tried that option.’

‘I always think that’s such a sad story.’ Saskia shivered, her eyes shadowing. ‘Especially for his poor father.’

‘Mmm...’ Andreas agreed, before asking her, ‘Am I to take it from that comment that you’re a student of Greek mythology?’

‘Well, not precisely a student,’ Saskia admitted, ‘but my grandmother used to read me stories from a book on Greek mythology when I was little and I always found the stories fascinating...even though they nearly always made me cry.’

Abruptly she stopped speaking as she realised two things. The first was that they were now completely airborne, and the second was...her own bemused awareness of how good it felt actually to have Andreas’s large hand clasping her own. It was enough to make her face sting with self-conscious colour and she hastily wriggled her hand free, just as the stewardess came up to offer them a glass of champagne.

‘Champagne!’ Saskia’s eyes widened as she took a sip from the glass Andreas was holding out to her and she gasped as the delicious bubbles exploded against her taste buds.

It had to be the champagne that was making her feel so relaxed and so...so...laid-back, Saskia decided hazily a little later, and when the captain announced that they were coming in to land she was surprised to realise how quickly the time had flown—and how much she had enjoyed the conversation she and Andreas had shared. She was even more surprised to discover how easy it was to slip her hand into the reassuring hold of Andreas’s as the plane’s wheels hit the tarmac and the pilot applied reverse thrust to slow them down.

‘I can either have our driver take you to the family apartment in Athens, where you can rest whilst I see my grandfather, or, if you prefer, I can arrange for him to drive you on a sightseeing tour,’ Andreas offered, casually lifting their cases off the luggage carousel.

He was wearing a pair of plain light-coloured trousers and a cool, very fine white cotton short-sleeved shirt, and for some indefinable reason it did odd things to Saskia’s normally very sensible female senses to witness the way the muscles hardened in his arms as he swung their cases on to the ground. Very odd things, she acknowledged giddily as the discreet smile of flirtatious invitation she intercepted from a solitary woman traveller caused her instinctively to move possessively closer to him.

What on earth was happening to her? It must be the champagne...or the heat...or perhaps both! Yes, that was it, she decided feverishly, grateful to have found a sensible explanation for her unfamiliar behaviour. After all, there was no reason why she should feel possessive about Andreas. Yesterday morning she had hated him...loathed him... In fact she had been dreading her enforced time as his ‘fiancée’—and she still was, of course. Of course! It was just that...

Well, having met Athena it was only natural that she should feel some sympathy for him. And she had been fascinated by the stories he had told her during the flight—stories which had been told to him by older members of his Greek family and which were a wonderful mix of myth and folklore. And it was a very pleasant experience not to have to struggle with heavy luggage. Normally when she went away she was either with a group of friends or with her grandmother, and...

‘Saskia...?’

Guiltily Saskia realised that Andreas was still waiting for an answer to his question.

‘Oh, I’d much prefer to see something of the city,’ she answered.

‘Well, you won’t have a lot of time,’ Andreas warned her. ‘Our pilot will already have filed his flight plan.’

Saskia already knew that they would be flying out to the island in a small plane privately owned by Andreas’s grandfather, and what had impressed her far more than Andreas’s casual reference to the plane had been his mention of the fact that he himself was qualified to fly.

‘Unfortunately I had to give it up. I can’t spare the amount of hours now that I believe are needed to keep myself up to speed and in practice, and besides, my insurance company were extremely wary about insuring me,’ he’d added ruefully.

‘It’s this way,’ he told her now, placing his hand on her shoulder as he turned her in the right direction.

Out of the corner of her eye Saskia caught a glimpse of their reflections in a mirrored column and immediately tensed. What was she doing leaning against Andreas like that? As though...as though she liked being there...as though she was enjoying playing the helpless fragile female to his strong muscular male.

Immediately she pulled away from him and squared her shoulders.

‘Athena would have loved to have seen you do that,’ he told her sharply, the disapproval clear in his voice.

‘We’re supposed to be in love, Saskia...remember?’

‘Athena isn’t here,’ she responded quickly.

‘No, thank God,’ he agreed. ‘But we don’t know who might accidentally observe us. We’re a couple—very much in love—newly engaged...and you’re about to fly to my home to meet my family. Don’t you think it’s natural that—?’

‘That I should feel nervous and intimidated...worried about whether or not they’ll think I’m good enough for you.’ Saskia interrupted him angrily, her pride stung by what he was suggesting. ‘And what am I supposed to do? Cling desperately and despairingly to you...afraid of their rejection...afraid of losing you...just because—’

She stopped as she saw the blank impatient look Andreas was giving her.

‘What I was about to say,’ he told her grimly, ‘was don’t you think it’s only natural that I should want to hold you close to me and equally that you should want that same intimacy? That as lovers we should want always to be physically in touch with one another?’ He paused. ‘And as for what you have just said, I’m a man of thirty-five, long past the age of needing anyone’s approval of what I do or who I love.’

‘But you don’t...’ Saskia began, and then stopped as she realised what she had been about to say. Andreas hardly needed her to tell him that he didn’t love her.

‘I don’t what?’ he prompted her, but she shook her head, refusing to answer him.

* * *

‘SO YOU WANT TO SEE the Acropolis first?’ Andreas checked with Saskia before getting out of the limousine, having first given the driver some instructions in Greek.

‘Yes,’ Saskia confirmed.

‘I have told Spiros to make sure you are at the airport in time for our flight. He will take care of you. I am sorry to have to leave you to your own devices,’ Andreas apologised formally, suddenly making Saskia sharply aware of his mixed cultural heritage.

She recognised how at home he looked here, and yet, at the same time, how much he stood out from the other men she could see. He was taller, for one thing, and his skin, whilst tanned, was not as dark, and of course his eyes would always give away his Northern European blood.

* * *

SASKIA GAVE A small emotional sigh as she finally turned her back on the Acropolis and started to walk away. She had managed to persuade the driver that she would be perfectly safe on her own, but only after a good deal of insistence, and she had enjoyed her solitude as she had absorbed the aura of the ancient building in awed appreciation.

Now, though, it was time for her to go. She could see the limousine waiting where she had expected, but to her consternation there was no sign of its driver.

There was a man standing close to the vehicle, though, white-haired and elderly. Saskia frowned as she recognised that he seemed to be in some distress, one hand pressed against his side as though he was in pain. A brief examination of the street confirmed that it was empty, apart from the old man and herself. Saskia automatically hurried towards him, anxious for his well-being.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked in concern as she reached him. ‘You don’t look well.’

To her relief he answered her in English, assuring her, ‘It is nothing...the heat—a small pain. I have perhaps walked farther than I should...’

Saskia was still anxious. It was hot. He did not look well, and there was certainly no way she could possibly leave him on his own, but there was still no sign of her driver or anyone else who might be able to help, and she had no idea how long it would take them to get to the airport.