‘Andreas, this is crazy.’ Her voice quavered a little in spite of all her efforts to project the cool, calm image that had protected her in the past. ‘This whole thing is crazy.’
‘Love is crazy, sweetheart.’
It was the second endearment since they had been talking and the quality of his voice sent her heart soaring before she called it to heel. ‘We’re only prolonging the agony,’ she insisted with a brittle emphasis that told him she was near the end of her tether. ‘I can’t do this, any of it. I’m not what you think I am. I haven’t got the energy to keep scraping at the wound, which is what you’re asking; neither could I bury my head in the sand when it all began to go wrong.’
‘It won’t go wrong, so that deals with that one,’ he said with magnificent determination. ‘And it is not energy that is required, only courage, and you have that in abundance.’
She stared at him for long seconds, and then for the first time since she had set eyes on Andreas Karydis the nagging sense of apprehension eased a little. ‘You are so Greek,’ she said weakly.
‘But our children will have English blood too,’ he responded with a devastating smile, ‘so that is good, eh? But now you must check in for your flight, so we will return to the others, who will be very tactful and circumspect of course.’ He grinned again.
‘What are you going to say to them?’ Sophy couldn’t smile.
‘The truth,’ he answered simply. ‘Just the truth.’
‘Which is?’ she asked nervously.
He stared at her, drinking in her fair, fragile beauty and the vulnerability in her face. ‘That we are seeing each other,’ he said quietly. ‘That I love you with all my heart and intend to make you my wife, whatever it takes. That a moment spent apart from you is like a hundred years. That sort of thing.’
Their coffee was cold by the time they walked back into the terminal, but no one pointed it out. Evangelos took the news of their relationship completely in his stride and although Jill’s eyes widened slightly she recovered quickly. It was left to Michael to say, with typical childish tactlessness, ‘What does that mean? Seeing each other? Are you going to get married?’
‘One day.’ Andreas’s voice was low and smoky.
‘When?’ Michael was all impatience, but in the next instant Jill had whisked him off his seat and carted him—not without protest—to wash his hands.
Sophy and Andreas were married ten months later, on a sunny Greek day when the sky was as blue as English corn-flowers a
nd the April sunshine was pleasantly warm.
They had both wanted the wedding to be in Halkidiki, and the little white church was full to bursting with English friends and relatives whom Andreas had flown over, along with a whole host of Greek ones. It was all colour and hushed excitement.
Michael was Andreas’s best man—an honour which had the small boy as stiff and correct as a sergeant major—and Jill was Sophy’s matron of honour and looked lovely in pale lemon. Christos had flown out with Sophy’s sister and nephew; he had been a tower of strength for Jill since Theodore’s death, and it was clear to anyone with eyes to see that the two had begun to think a great deal of each other.
But Sophy wasn’t thinking about her sister’s burgeoning romance; she had eyes for no one but her fiancé as she walked slowly down the aisle on Evangelos’s arm. He looked stunningly handsome as he waited for her, Michael at the side of him as proud as punch. And the soft murmur of awe, as the assembled congregation turned and saw the bride, spoke of how beautiful Sophy looked in her ivory wedding dress of crushed silk, her lace veil as delicate as butterfly wings.
Andreas had spent nearly as much time in England as he had in Greece until he had persuaded Sophy to agree to marry him. She had said yes at Christmas, which she and Jill and Michael had spent in Greece with Evangelos and Dimitra, but she had known within days of arriving back in England in June that she couldn’t live without him. He’d been right; he was in her head and her heart.
But the intervening time until Christmas had been necessary. The long-buried fears and issues which Andreas had brought to the surface had had to be faced and dealt with, and it had been hard. Very hard. She didn’t think she could have got through without Andreas. But together they had faced the demons of fear, hurt, bitterness, resentment and not least doubt, and one by one the release had come and ghosts had been laid to rest.
‘My darling. My precious, beautiful darling.’
As she reached Andreas’s side his whisper was for her ears only, his eyes adoring her as she smiled up at him, happy and confident in his love.
She said her vows in a clear, soft voice that brought tears to Jill’s eyes and made Dimitra reach for her handkerchief; Andreas’s voice so ringing with pride that Evangelos remarked afterwards he was sure it could be heard ten miles away.
And then the service was over and they emerged from the church’s flower-filled interior to a hail of rice and confetti, driving back to Evangelos’s villa where a huge marquee had been erected in the grounds and a small army of caterers provided a banquet fit for royalty.
It was a wonderful day, a magical day, and the party went on long after the sky had turned to black velvet pierced with diamonds, the small band playing and the champagne still flowing into the early hours. No one wanted to go home!
But Andreas had stolen away with his bride long before then. They were spending their wedding night at home before flying to the Caribbean the next day for a month, and when at last Andreas carried her over the threshold they found Alethea had strewn rose petals over the floor to greet them. The delicate perfume filled the house, and on impulse Sophy pulled him into the garden where soft shadows danced in the moonlit fairyland.
It was still warm as they made their way down to the beach through the scented vegetation. The light was silvery, the full moon creating its own sense of whispering enchantment, and the sea sighed gently as it caressed the sand which shone white and gleaming. Everything was clean and newly washed.
‘I thought we would never be alone.’ Andreas’s voice was dark and smoky and Sophy shivered in anticipation. She had kicked off her wedding shoes in the house and taken off her veil and delicate gold and crystal headdress, and now she looked part of the night, her hair and billowy pale dress silvered by the ethereal light.
‘You are so beautiful, exquisite,’ he murmured softly as he took her fully into his arms. ‘I’m almost afraid you will break if I hold you too close.’
‘I won’t break,’ she assured him firmly. ‘I want you to make love to me here, in the open with the sky and stars above us and the air as sweet as honey. And afterwards we will swim in the sea.’ She smiled at him, the words a declaration.