From Dirt to Diamonds

‘Thea—my Thea—’

His voice sounded broken, which was strange—so strange. So strange, too, the brush of his fingertip on one cheek and then the other. And stranger still the cupping of her chin, the tilting of her face up to him.

‘Don’t cry! I’ve hurt and harmed you so much! So much I cannot bear to think of it! When I saw you fall, slipping down the rockface, risking death rather than take my outstretched hand, I felt a horror I have never felt—never want to feel again in all my life.’

His voice was low, intense, his body so close to hers. Though her eyes were still screwed so tight shut she could feel his presence, his heat. His height and his breadth and the scent of his body. The warmth of his breath. His hands cupping her face, thumbs smoothing away the hot, molten tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

‘I ask for nothing—nothing. Least of all your forgiveness for what I have done. I deserve nothing from you—only your hatred for all I have done! But I beg you, from my heart, to believe me now when I say to you that the night you gave yourself to me I meant you no harm, no ill intent. Though you have every reason to think I did. That night, those days we were together, will be a treasure to me all my life. They showed me a truth about myself that I will carry to my grave—and you hold it in your hands, worthless though it can be to you. It is all that I can offer. My heart, my love—’

His eyes were gazing down into hers, ablaze, but her vision was blurred with tears. There was a ball of pain within her, squeezing tight, so tight …

He was speaking still, his voice shaken and vehement. ‘I have been monstrous to you—but I will beg forgiveness all my days. Don’t cry, my Thea, don’t cry. I will not let you cry. So brave, so beautiful, and I love you so much—so very much!’

She was crying more, tears pouring from her, and with an oath he wrapped her to him, folded her against his body, cradled her and rocked her, his hand soothing on her hair, his arm tight around her waist, her face buried in his shoulder.

How long she cried she did not know. Five years of tears. A long, long time to cry.

He scooped her up, lowered them both down upon the sofa, and went on holding her, letting her weep, soothing her, kissing her hair, rocking her gently, murmuring to her in Greek, in English, all the things he had never said to her but which came from him now.

She stilled at last, no tears left in her, but he held her still, exhausted, drained, cradled across his lap. He kissed her eyelids.

‘My Thea,’ he said again.

She opened her eyes. Opened her eyes to see his, the truth pouring into her.

‘Is it true?’ Her voice was a whisper, her fingers clutching at his lapel.

He gave a smile. Crooked, unsure. Unsure of her.

‘True that I love you? Oh, yes …’ He took a ragged breath, his eyes questioning. Fearful of her answer lest it destroy him. ‘I loved you the night I made love to you—you whom I had desired for so long, who had become more to me, though I scarcely realised it, than any woman I had known. I loved you as I made love to you—though I did not have the words for it, only the emotion, though it was unrecognisable to me, having never felt it before. I only knew that I wanted to keep you with me from then on, never part with you.’

His voice changed, grew haunted. ‘But in the morning you were gone—and when I realised, saw the evidence of what I had done to you—taken your virginity, all unknowing—then I knew why you had fled from me, knew I had to find you. And when I did …’ Again his voice changed, tearing at his throat. ‘When I did—you risked death rather than letting me save you …’ He gave a shuddering breath. ‘So I know I can ask nothing from you.’

‘You have it, all the same,’ she said. Her voice was rich—rich with promise, with revelation. Her fingers tightened on his lapel as she gazed up at him. How could this be? she wondered. Moments ago she had stood accepting the devastation of the truth of what she felt, the revelation of her own heart, and thought only that it must mock her all her life. And now—

‘I love you,’ she told him. It was all she had to say—all he needed to hear.

/> He crushed her to him, holding her so close against him that she could scarcely breathe, but joy blazed through her. She loved him—and was loved.

‘How can that be?’ she whispered.

He kissed her softly, tenderly. With all his heart. ‘Can you forgive me what I did to you?’

Again the note of doubt, of disbelief was there.

‘You didn’t know, and I didn’t tell you why I wanted that job so desperately. And Angelos—’ She laid a finger on his mouth. As he would have spoken, her eyes troubled. ‘I did steal from you. I can’t deny that. And whether my fear and desperation were enough to justify it, I can’t answer—I daren’t answer!’

‘You’ve been through so much—all your life.’ His voice was ragged. ‘Faced so much, overcome so much, achieved so much. As Kat, as Thea—your courage, your determination, your integrity, shine from you! Dear God, how much I love you!’ He kissed her again hungrily, urgently, possessively.

And beneath his lips hers opened to him, desire lighting in her like a flame, kindling and quickening as she wound her hands around his neck, clung to his lean, strong body.

He swept her up, striding across the room, carrying her into the bedroom, lowering her down upon the bed’s wide, waiting surface.

‘Are you sure? Are you truly sure this is what you want?’

He had asked her the question before, but this time his fate hung upon it.

She gazed up at him. In her eyes a smile gleamed. Warming his heart.