They headed for Samaria and the famous gorge. Andrea had read about it in the guidebook Nikos had bought for her before they left Rethimnon.
‘I know I can't walk it,' she said, 'but at least I can see it.'
Nikos took her as close as he could, driving deep into the heart of the White Mountains of western Crete. They drank coffee on the terrace of the little cafeneion near the start of the walk, the Xiloskala, wooden stairs that led into the gorge. Above them towered the bare, bleak heights of the Gingalos peak, skirted by rock and scree.
'Tomorrow we'll sail round to the mouth of the gorge, Agia Roumeli, and cruise along the southern coast,' said Nikos. 'In fact—' he glanced at his watch '—we have time to drive down to Sougia today, if you wish.'
Andrea nodded, happy to go anywhere with him. 'What does agia mean?' she asked. 'There are so many places called "Agia" something or other.'
Nikos laughed. 'Saint—a female saint. Male saints are agios' He looked at her a moment. 'You must learn the language of your forefathers, Andrea mou. Now that you are to live here.'
She was silent. Emotions racketed around inside her. Nikos was opening doors she must keep shut.
'What about mou?’ she asked. She did not want to think about what he had said. 'You keep saying, "Andrea mou".’
'Mine,' he said softly. The grey eyes held hers. 'My Andrea.'
She looked away, her face troubled.
She felt the brush of his fingers on her hand.
4I have made you mine, have I not, Andrea mou?’ he murmured.
Colour stole into her cheeks, feeding the tumult in her heart.
I can't think about this! I can't think about anything!
She swallowed. 'Where are we heading next?' she said brightly. ‘I’m starting to get hungry!'
His fingers closed around hers, his thumb lazily smoothing her skin. 'So am I, agape mou, so am I...'
But it was a hunger he was to be prevented from sating for many hours to come. Even so, he consented to be her holiday companion, her fellow-explorer, willingly enough. She was a different person, it seemed to him, here on Crete. The reserved, composed, controlled Englishwoman who was such hard work to entertain, whom he had got used to squiring around Athens, had transformed into a vibrant, open personality who was a delight to be with. Was it just because the appalling tensions of the last weeks had finally resolved themselves? Or was it because he had made her his own?
For she was his own now; he knew that. No other man would ever touch her. She was his wife. Already he cherished her. A surge not just of possession but of protectiveness speared through him whenever he looked at her. No man would hurt her again, for she would need no other man now. Only him. The future looked bright. Brighter than ever he had dared
hope.
All that panic-generated talk she had spouted at him on their wedding night about leaving him in the morning was nothing. It had been her fears speaking; that was all. And those fears he had shown to be nothing more than phantasms haunting her.
He had exorcised her ghosts, he knew, and from now on their path was clear and thornless.
This rushed arranged marriage would work out for them-he was sure of that now. Together they would move on through the years ahead.
Well-being filled him, and the future was bright with promise.
At his side, as they zig-zagged down the winding road through! the lovely Agia Irini gorge towards the southern coast, Andrea' could not stop herself from looking at him.
Her breath caught every time she did so. It was everything about him—everything! From the satin sheen of his dark hair, the impossible glamour of his sunglasses, the firm, sensual line of his mouth, the vee of his open collar, the flexible strength of his hands curving around the wheel of the car, the tanne sinews of his bare forearms—all, all made her want to *i«* him in, feast her eyes on him more and more.
And yet while her senses feasted her emotions swirled within her. His words at the cafeneion, about learning Greek, had filled her with dismay.
How could she live here, in Greece? How could she be truly married to Nikos Vassilis?
It was unthinkable!
And yet, and yet...
Too much pulled at her. Too many emotions.