But she couldn’t see it now.
She blinked hard and searched again.
She still couldn’t see it, because unless she was mistaken it wasn’t there. All she could see was what looked like red-hot need.
‘And I know you don’t want to, but you do still want me, don’t you, Libby?’ he whispered raggedly, lowering his head so that his mouth was so agonisingly close she could feel the heat of his breath against her lips.
‘I…’ Her breath caught in her throat as he stroked the finger he had been resting beneath her chin across her shoulderblade and down the side of her body, so that the backs of his knuckles grazed the side of her breast. Her nipples tightened to unbearable peaks. ‘I—’
‘I’ll be off, then—oh, I’m sorry.’
Libby and Rion sprung apart as Eurycleia stuck her head around the door of the living room and then beat a hasty retreat.
Rion left Libby reeling in the middle of the room and strode towards the door, utterly shameless. ‘Thank you, Eurycleia. Enjoy your time off.’
‘I’m sure I will.’ She nodded, hurrying towards the front door with an embarrassed wave goodbye.
Rion closed the door behind her and turned back to Libby. ‘Now do you see why dismissing Eurycleia is a good idea, gineka mou?’
Libby could feel her chest rising and falling, but her mind was too hazy with desire and disbelief to speak. Was it possible that he did really want her? She had sworn she wouldn’t let herself even imagine it until she had evidence, but what had that been, if not solid proof?
Rion flicked a look down at his watch. ‘Much as I would gladly finish proving why, I’m afraid it will have to keep another few hours,’ he drawled. ‘The play starts in forty-five minutes. I presume you wish to change?’
Libby looked down at her crumpled blouse, her mind racing. The play. His desire. How many other things had changed too? She nodded.
‘The bathroom is the second door on the right at the top of the stairs. Be ready to leave in twenty-five minutes.’
She’d showered, changed into a gypsy-style dress, and been ready to go in even less time that that, but three-quarters of an hour later, as they settled down on the cushions and blankets which had been laid out to make the stone seats of the theatron more comfortable, she only wished her mind was as settled. Because now Eurycleia wasn’t the only one he’d told about her. He’d just introduced her as his wife to the man who’d shown them to their seats, and to the elderly couple next to them too.
Once the play had started—an adaptation of Homer’s Odyssey by the local drama group—and the hubbub of the audience had been replaced with tranquillity, she couldn’t go on denying what that meant. She’d wanted evidence that he was for real, that he did want to give their marriage another shot, that recapturing what they’d once had before everything had changed might be possible. And, even though she’d thought the chances of that were minuscule, he’d given it to her. He’d given her hope.
And it was both exhilarating and terrifying. Because she wanted to open her heart to it, to revel in it, but there was still so much they didn’t know about each other, so many ways they might not be compatible, and deep down she knew it was too soon, too dangerous, too easy to be seduced by the romance of it all. The sky growing dark, the stars beginning to twinkle above them. The stars of Orion’s belt, which always reminded her of him no matter where in the world she was, even though until yesterday she’d been convinced that looking up at the constellation which bore his name was the closest she’d ever get to him again.
Just as it was too easy to be seduced by the way he’d placed a blanket around her shoulders and left his hand lingering there as the players re-enacted the moment at the end of Odysseus’s adventures when he and his wife Penelope were reunited after many years apart.
But not until they had each tested one another and banished their doubts, Libby thought, the play’s pertinence far from lost on her. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn that it was no accident. But hadn’t he been planning on coming here alone before she’d even arrived in his office yesterday? Yes, Eurycleia’s reaction when he’d mentioned the play tonight had proved that he had.
It had to be a coincidence, then, or simply that the ancient epic was full of such universal truths that it resonated in one way or another with everyone, as stories that stood the test of time always did. Yes, Rion was probably sitting beside her identifying with a totally different part. Like Odysseus’s need to make his journey alone, or something.