Obligation To Love

‘Then I shall get you more cream; the stewardess will only be too delighted.’ He was right of course; the air hostess probably would jump from the aircraft if he asked, Hayley thought bitterly, as the girl fawned over him, flirting outrageously.

‘There now, is that to madame‘s satisfaction?’ he asked, as he added more cream till the coffee was the palest of colours.

‘Thank you,’ she muttered, half under her breath.

Hayley knew she sounded rude—her curt reply was meant to. She had the distinct impression he was toying with her as a game on the long flight and she had no desire to be part of it.

‘There is a choice of menu at lunchtime—perhaps you should like to see?’ He proffered her the smart, neat card and Hayley felt obliged to take it. She read and re-read the menu, as every dish sounded so delicious it was hard to choose. This was a far cry from the synthetic packaged meals one was usually served by airlines.

‘The choice is difficult, no?’ he asked, giving her an enigmatic grin, which was full of humour yet sexy and provocative. Hayley, despite the warnings of her own instincts, found herself returning it. How she wished she were more attractive and more experienced with men. Then she, too, could flirt away the journey, instead of blushing uncomfortably like a naïve schoolgirl when confronted with an undeniably attractive man.

‘Yes, it certainly is difficult, they all sound so lovely: smoked salmon cornets, burgundy pâté, quails’ eggs in aspic.’ She read out the menu with obvious delight. She was unaccustomed to such luxuries but suddenly became keenly aware that he was not. She clamped her mouth shut, too embarrassed to say any more and she caught the look of amusement on his face. ‘I don’t usually travel first-class,’ she confessed, her eyes darting around as she hoped no one else heard her. He said nothing, he just focused on her again for what seemed an age, his expression unfathomable. Hayley flicked back to the menu, studying it with intense interest to cover her embarrassment.

‘And those are only the appetisers; the main course is even harder, no?’ he interjected suddenly, the tension of the moment shattered by the warmth of his enquiry. He leant over to look at her card, too close for Hayley’s comfort. She stiffened as she felt his shoulder against her, exerting a slight pressure that warned her of his strength. The proximity of him was once more sending shock-waves through her slender frame, and she suddenly felt very exposed.

‘I think I’ll choose later,’ she said hurriedly, passing him back the card with a sudden thrust; she didn’t want him becoming too friendly. He was far too dangerous, she knew that. It was for that reason he unnerved her. The sheer sexual power of the man frightened her. He, for his part, seemed to be aware of the effect he was having on her and was for some reason enjoying it.

‘Come now, did your mother warn you never to talk to strangers?’ He was laughing at her again. He was a smooth operator, calculating yet still charming, Hayley reluctantly admitted. He was totally aware of the effect he must have been having on women since he’d left the cradle. He definitely had magic powers, but Hayley refused to be charmed. She bridled at his attitude.

‘As a matter of fact, she did—and about wolves in sheep’s clothing,’ she retorted, hoping the put-down would bruise his ego and he would leave her alone. There was a flash of anger, she thought, but it happened so quickly that Hayley was unable to be sure. Then his smile widened still further, his teeth appearing brilliant white against his tanned face. He looked younger when he smiled, the cynicism seemed to leave his face and, for an instant, he looked like a schoolboy.

‘In that case, my name is Alex; see, we are no longer strangers, and as for being a wolf...’ He paused, his expression a picture of innocence and his hands spread open, his palms lifted to heaven. ‘Perhaps.’ He laughed again, teasing her gently, and, regardless of her warning bells, Hayley laughed too.

‘Hayley. Hayley Swift.’ She extended her hand in a gesture of friendship. A look of confusion flickered for a moment in the dark depths of his eyes. Then he took her hand in his grasp, a thrilling sensation searing through it at his touch. The authority in his handshake was undeniable, but Hayley’s too was firm. In business, one judged and was often judged by the type of handshake given, and she certainly wanted him to know they were equal.

‘Now, Hayley, you drink your coffee, and I shall choose lunch, if that is agreeable?’ It was a polite request, not an order, and Hayley felt coaxed to concur. To do otherwise would seem churlish. She liked the sound of her name on his lips; his accent made it sound delightfully different, and for some reason she suddenly felt a different person with him. She felt she’d come alive, and she was vibrant and young. She sipped her coffee while she thought of that: young! She had never been young, had the freedom of youth. It had been taken from her. Was it too late to find her freedom from responsibility? she mused. It would be nice to see Melissa settled, then perhaps she would become more carefree. This time she was determined that Melissa would stand on her own two feet; she would merely be there as support.

She was too absorbed in her own thoughts to notice that Alex had finished ordering and was watching her intently again, but this time as if making comparisons with someone else.

‘You are deep in thought,’ he said, resting his hand on her arm. It was more a statement, not a question, and Hayley tensed at his observant inspection.

‘Hmm, I suppose I was miles away,’ she agreed, sighing gently. ‘I was thinking how excited I am, like a silly teenager.’

‘You must learn to be young again, to capture the liberty you gave up so willingly,’ he said seriously. But somehow he sounded as if he was speaking of himself, not her. Hayley was puzzled.

‘Liberty?’ she echoed. ‘From what?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing on him, not knowing quite why she felt sure he was talking about himself, since he was not wearing a marriage ring.

‘We should never want freedom from someone or something,’ he explained quickly, as if covering his tracks. ‘Freedom to do, is what I mean. To do all the things we couldn’t do before. Surely there is plenty you wish to do?’ His words went deep, but Hayley was still convinced that he was hiding something from her. Why should such an attractive and wealthy man still be single; and why such bitterness when he spoke of freedom? Hayley was intrigued.

‘Do you know Greece?’ she asked, determined to steer the conversation on to a more neutral topic. He understood immediately, and again she caught his silent laughter as he cast her a wry look.

‘It is my home,’ he said, the pride in his voice evident. ‘I do not spend as much time there as I should like, but business commitments force me away.’ Hayley found herself drowning in mysterious depths, trapped by his hypnotic physical beauty.

‘I hope to see as much of the country as possible during my short stay,’ responded Hayley, too aware of the influence he was having on her. It must be the altitude, she thought, trying desperately to rationalise the depth of sexual awareness he was arousing in her. ‘Greece is a totally new experience for me,’ she continued. She longed to hear from a true native about Greece and all the best sights to see.

‘You are on holiday, then?’ he asked, in honeyed tones that seemed to caress her already sensitive soul.

‘Sort of,’ Hayley answered, her doubt apparent. She could hardly call it a holiday. Mr Christos’s invitation was far too formal to set firm.

‘Yet you still hope to see the country, yes?’

Hayley nodded zealously, her heavy fringe bouncing on her forehead. ‘As much as I’m able to. I’ve no idea how much free time I’ll have,’ she confessed, her voice fading to a whisper.

‘You will have to make time,’ he commanded, sounding surprisingly harsh. ‘The contrasts in Greece, from the ancient ruins to the bustling holiday resorts, all have to be sampled.’

‘Maybe the ruins, but not the resorts,’ replied Hayley, her nose wrinkling with distaste. He made his approval at her words clear, and shrugged his broad shoulders.

‘It is the way of things,’ he said philosophically. ‘Where are you staying?’

Hayley was about to answer when the lights above them began to flash. The captain’s voice was brisk but calm, as he instructed everyone to fasten their seatbelts. Hayley froze, unable to move. For the very first moment in her life she understood real fear. The captain was still talking, reassuring everyone that there was nothing to worry about, but Hayley was oblivious to his words, or the instruction to belt up. She felt utterly sick, stunned. Her face drained of all colour, making her eyes appear large and frightened. Her pulse began to race. She sat stiff, transfixed, unable to do anything, her breathing was increasing in speed; she felt she was choking. She took huge gulps of air, but was unable to breathe properly. History was with cruel accuracy repeating itself. Her parents too had died on an air flight and now all her worst fears were confirmed. They were going to crash! The thought swirled around in her head, blotting out everything else. It screamed through her brain, preventing her from doing anything. Her mind was a mixture of fear and memories that were stretching her to breaking point.

‘Get your belt on,’ Alex ordered her, glowering at her with unspoken anger. Hayley remained still, staring straight ahead, her nerves preventing her from even registering his hard voice.

‘Hayley, your seatbelt!’ he snapped. He caught Hayley tightly by the wrist, and dragged her back to her senses. He sounded so aggressive that her eyes shot to his. She saw his dark brows meeting above his hard-boned nose, and the lines that were deeply ingrained beside his mouth. She pulled the belt across her waist and fumbled as she had done on take-off with the buckle. He snatched it from her, his big hands casting away her small ones with a determined gesture of impatience.

‘There,’ he said simply, snapping the belt closed with firm finality. Hayley winced at his tone; it was bereft of the smoky warmth she had heard earlier. He had already tossed aside the coffee-cup and re-sited her folding table out of the way.

‘You’ll be all right,’ he reassured her.

Suddenly Hayley looked very much like a child. Her hand shot to her mouth to stifle a scream as the aircraft dived. She wasn’t alone in her fear; a collective scream sounded around the plane as it began to plummet to the ground. Hayley sank her teeth into her hand, unaware of her actions, but determined not to scream. She heard Alex mumble a curse in his own tongue, as he pulled her hand away and clasped it tightly in his.

‘Look at me!’ he commanded, pulling her closer to him, his grip tightening around her wrist and biting into her soft flesh. Hayley’s head shot up, fear etched on every feature.

‘I’m frightened,’ she confessed in a whisper, unable to stand it any longer. Her voice was choked, full of all her unspoken fears and memories. Alex drew her even closer.

‘I know.’ His voice seemed to crackle with intensity. ‘But we will be all right,’ he reassured her, satisfying her. Hayley tried to respond, but her mouth was dry and her head hot and dizzy. She could sense anger in him, and it bewildered her. He had every right to be angry, she thought, though still slightly puzzled. Who wanted to be stuck next to an hysterical woman? She forgot the immediate danger as she was mesmerised by the fiery and unyielding determination stamped on his face. She swallowed the dry, painful lump in her throat. Suddenly she wasn’t sure what was more frightening: Alex’s latent anger, or the impending plane crash. The craft unexpectedly dipped dra-matically again and Hayley shut her eyes tightly, blocking out the horror of the situation. She grasped tightly at Alex’s capable hands, unaware that her nails were digging deeply into his flesh.

We’re going to crash! was her only thought.

CHAPTER THREE

FEAR strangled so tightly at Hayley’s throat that she was unable to cry out aloud, but every nerve in her body was shrieking. She felt sick with terror as the thought of impending disaster loomed in her mind. The aircraft seemed to fall for an eternity, then the bumps began. Hayley’s eyes shot open and she was confronted with Alex’s dark midnight gaze. She stared numbly.

‘What’s happening?’ she breathed through thin lips.

‘Absolutely nothing,’ he replied, shaking his head dismissively. ‘I think we hit a storm, so we descended, and now we’re going through a series of air pockets,’ he explained patiently. Suddenly aware that she had kept hold of his hand, Hayley began to release her grip. Then the plane took another dive and she immediately panicked. She tensed immediately, squeezing Alex’s hand again for support, but not before she had registered his laughter. A few more minutes passed, each one seeming like an eternity. Hayley had never experienced anything like this before. At last the serene voice of the captain reassured everyone that everything was fine. Hayley listened attentively, and the captain gave the same explanation as Alex had already given her. The flight resumed its normal height and she gave a huge sigh of relief, her heart-rate decreasing. She sank back in her chair.

‘Thank God,’ she breathed to herself, a wave of relief flooding over her.

‘Does this mean I can have my hand back?’ enquired Alex drily. Hayley dropped his hand, noting with some embarrassment the deep imprints left by her nails.

‘I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t realise...’ she began, totally flustered.

‘I was only too glad to be of assistance,’ he interrupted her, with a velvet teasing quality, and his eyes dancing with unconcealed delight. Hayley tried to shrug off the incident with the same amount of nonchalance, but she knew how frightened she’d been, and how reassured when she’d had hold of his hand. She had depended on his strength and the steady grip of his hand around hers, warm and hard.

Somehow she had felt safe and secure. Instinctively she knew that, while he was there, all would be well. Hayley felt a trickle of bad memories in her mind, causing her to shudder. Then a vivid picture suddenly flashed before her eyes: she was stuck in a tree, it seemed so high off the ground, and yet, when her father had stretched up his arms, she had leapt into them, confident she would be caught. She remembered the thrill of his arms wrapped around her tiny waist, and she knew for the second time in her life she had experienced that emotion again. The thought made her head spin. She had been loved in that moment, safe and secure in her father’s arms; yet it had been a fleeting one: she was soon placed firmly on the floor while Melissa demanded attention.

‘I hope the rest of the flight passes without incident,’ she said lightly, trying to dismiss such thoughts from her mind. She had never been dependent on anyone and the idea worried her.

‘I should imagine so,’ Alex said, ‘and, if not, I am always here for you,’ he reassured her playfully. Hayley tried to smile, but it died on her lips at his remark. She was not used to this coquettish game and was quite sure he was a master at it.

‘I have embarrassed you, yes?’ he asked, a trace of concern apparent in his accent. Hayley shook her head and flicked her hair over her shoulders, a habit of hers when she was agitated.

‘No, not at all,’ she answered too quickly, the speed of her reply revealing her true feelings. He nodded sagely at her, holding her in his hypnotic gaze.

‘Tell me, what exactly is your job?’ he asked conversationally, and Hayley was grateful for his neutral line. She responded, unaware of the rapt attention he was giving her...

‘My job in the gallery is selling art works,’ she said modestly, never admitting to the important role she played; her lack of confidence made her unaware of her true skills and talents.

‘You like this work—it is interesting?’ His voice was warmly persuasive, and Hayley, who loved her work and enjoyed talking about it, failed to see the flicker of curiosity on his usually guarded features.

‘Oh, yes indeed. The gallery specialises in antique works but we also hold several exhibitions each year for new talent,’ she told him, sparkling as she recalled her past achievements.

‘And your preferred artists?’ Alex asked almost cautiously, as if not wanting to be disappointed by her choice.

‘I have a very general taste. At the moment, there is a growing interest in religious art. Many churches are closing and they contain some marvellous artistic pieces. Many undiscovered sculptures by famous men are appearing at auction, so at the moment I’m spending time researching into all aspects of religious art.’

‘This gallery—you own it?’ he asked gently, feigning casual interest as he brushed imaginary fluff from his trousers. Hayley gave a hoot of delight.

‘No, I couldn’t possibly afford to own a gallery!’ she replied, shaking her head till her thick fringe swayed, drawing attention to the natural beauty of her face.

‘That’s very honest of you,’ he remarked.

‘Why should I lie to you?’ Hayley was puzzled by his cynical observation.

He pushed his fingers roughly through his hair, an action that made him look slightly boyish before he replied. ‘Why indeed?’ he said heavily, and she knew that he was laughing at her, a joke which she was part of but didn’t under-stand. A shadow of disappointment crossed her face.

‘You clearly love your work, but you feel you are no expert?’ Alex asked, as if trying to draw her back to easy conversation.

‘I’m no expert,’ agreed Hayley, omitting to tell him how qualified she was, as it might appear boastful and crude.

‘You told me your visit to Greece is not a holiday. Do I presume business, then? Art works to view?’ he queried.

‘No, not really, but if I saw anything very good I could not ignore such an opportunity to ask the owner to perhaps consider an exhibition. This is my card,’ she said in her most professional manner, passing Alex the gallery’s small buff-coloured card. He scanned over it with interest before fixing back on her.

‘So, if it is not business,’ he continued, as he tucked her card neatly in his chest pocket, ‘then what brings you to Greece?’

Hayley gave a low groan; how could one possibly describe the situation she was in? ‘My sister is hoping to get married and I’m going to meet the family.’

‘Indeed? How fascinating.’ She detected the hidden edge in his voice and was worried by it. ‘And will you be able to cope?’

Hayley paused before she answered, as a mental image of her parents flashed before her. She had always coped, always had to cope alone, while Melissa had demanded attention.

‘I’ve always coped,’ she replied, trying to keep the sorrow from her voice which she knew was ever-present when she thought about her childhood. He nodded briefly, catching the hidden pain in her eyes.

‘So it is you who must make all the arrangements?’ he pursued, his voice warming and gentle, yet there was a teasing, almost mocking ring to his enquiries, making her nervous.

‘I’m afraid so, and, though for my sister’s sake I must do my best, it’s not going to be easy.’

‘Why do you say that about people you haven’t even met?’ he queried keenly.

‘I’m not sure, but the family don’t appear at all keen on the idea, to be honest,’ Hayley confessed with lightness, as if it was of no real consequence. She was trying hard not to feel intimidated, but the thought of meeting Dimitri’s family played on the back of her mind. She noted the concern that suddenly creased Alex’s brow, and when he spoke his voice was jagged.

‘Why not?’ he snapped, looking stormy. Hayley felt pleased that he seemed as perturbed as she about their objections. It reassured her that perhaps not all Greeks were as old-fashioned as Mr Christos.

‘It’s the old man—’ she began, but she was interrupted immediately by Alex.

‘The old man?’ he echoed incredulously, and the sudden glint in his eyes unnerved her.

‘Yes—Dimitri’s cousin,’ she explained. ‘I’ve only spoken to him on the phone, but he was far from friendly,’ she said, a little embarrassed by the admission. She remembered Mr Christos’s tone and felt angry again.

‘Why?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sure, but I think it’s because it would be a mixed marriage; he sounds awfully traditional and set in his ways.’

‘You can tell all this by the sound of his voice?’ Alex’s voice was measured and even, but Hayley caught the underlying anger and reacted to it, defending her opinion vehemently.

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