The Demetrios Virgin

‘What is it...what is wrong?’ she begged him.

‘Do you really need to ask?’ Andreas responded tersely. ‘Why didn’t you tell me...stop me...?’

The anger in his voice was driving away the sweet mist of her joy and replacing it with anxiety and despair. It was obvious to her now that what had been so wonderful, so perfect, so unique for her had been nowhere near the same kind of experience for Andreas.

Andreas was furious with himself for not somehow having had the insight to know. She had been a virgin, and he, damn him, had practically forced himself on her... He was disgusted with himself, his pride scorched not just by his actions but his complete misreading of her.

‘You should have stopped me,’ he repeated as he got off the bed and went into the bathroom, returning with a towel wrapped around his naked body and his robe, which he handed to Saskia, and sitting down on the bed, turning away from her as she tried to put it on.

What would he say if she were to tell him that the last thing she had wanted was for him to stop? Saskia wondered wretchedly. Her hands were shaking so much she could hardly pull the robe on, never mind fasten it, and when Andreas turned to look at her he gave an impatient, irritated sigh and pushed her hands out of the way, pulling it on properly for her.

‘You aren’t safe to be let out alone. You realise that, don’t you?’ he exploded savagely. ‘Even if I hadn’t, Aristotle—’

‘Aristotle!’ Saskia picked his name up with loathing in her voice and in her eyes. She shuddered, and told him fiercely, ‘No—never... He’s loathsome and...’

‘But you went for a walk with him...’

‘No, I didn’t,’ Saskia protested.

‘Athena said you’d gone for a walk,’ Andreas insisted, but Saskia wouldn’t let him finish.

‘Yes, I did...on my own. There were things I wanted...’ She stopped, lowering her head and looking away from him. Then she told him in a tear-filled voice, ‘I want to go home, Andreas. I can’t...’

He knew what she was saying; of course he did, Andreas acknowledged—and why! Of course she wanted to get away from him after what he had done...the way he had...

‘You should have told me.’ He stopped her sharply. ‘If I’d known that you were a virgin...’

He might be concerned about taking her virginity but he obviously had no compunction at all about breaking her heart, Saskia decided angrily. For her the loss of her emotional virginity was something that hurt far more—and would continue to hurt.

How could she have been stupid enough to think he felt the same way about her as she did about him? She must have been crazy...had been crazy, she recognised grimly. Crazy with love for him!

‘I thought...’ she heard him saying, but now it was her turn not to allow him to finish.

‘I know what you thought,’ she cut in with sharp asperity. ‘You’ve already made it very plain what you thought of me, Andreas. You thought I was some cheap, silly woman throwing herself at you because of your money. And when I tried to explain you wouldn’t let me. You wanted to believe the worst of me. I suppose that Greek male pride of yours wouldn’t allow you to acknowledge that you might just possibly be wrong...’

Andreas looked at her. His jealousy had led to this...had led to his unforgivably appalling treatment of her. He ached to be able to take her in his arms, to kiss away the traces of tears still on her face, to hold her and whisper to her how much he loved her, how much he wanted to protect her and care for her...how much he wished he could wipe away the wrong he had done her, the pain he had caused her... He ached too, if he was honest, to lie her down on the bed beside him, to remove the robe she was wearing and to kiss every silky inch of her adorable body, to tell her how he felt about her, to show her too. But of course he could do no such thing...not now...

To keep his mind off what he was feeling...off the way he wanted her, he told her gruffly, ‘Explain to me now.’

For a moment Saskia was tempted to refuse, but what was the point? She would tell him, and then she would tell him that she intended to leave—but she certainly wouldn’t tell him why.