His Forbidden Bride. Sara Craven
all, it had belonged to an absentee owner for a long time, and might be in a state of real neglect and disrepair. But I have to know, she thought, taking another swift swig of her brandy as her pulses began to gallop again. And I have some money saved, and the whole summer vacation in front of me. There’ll never be a better opportunity.
She wouldn’t keep the house, of course. If it was habitable, she’d put it on the market. If it was falling down, she would just have to walk away—as her mother, apparently, had done before her.
But I’m not just going to see the villa, she thought. I want to find the answers to some questions as well. I need the truth, however painful, before I move on—start my new life.
She picked up the photo of the shadow man, and stood, staring down at him, wondering, and a little scared at the same time. Asking herself who he could be, and what his part in this mystery might be.
She sighed abruptly, and hid him back in the envelope with the rest of the paperwork.
I’ll find you, too, she thought. Somewhere. Somehow. And whatever the cost.
And tried to ignore the involuntary little shiver of misgiving that tingled down her spine.
CHAPTER TWO
THE rail of the boat was hot under Zoe’s bare arm. Ahead of her, the craggy outline of Thania rose from the shimmer of the sea.
Even now, with her target in sight, Zoe could still hardly believe she was doing this. The tension inside her was like a knot, endlessly being pulled more tightly.
She had told no one the real purpose of her visit to the island, not even Adele. She’d pretended that the envelope had merely contained souvenirs of what had been, clearly, a holiday her mother had once enjoyed, but memorable to no one but herself, and consequently not worth mentioning.
‘I need a break, so why don’t I try and discover what she found so entrancing?’ she’d laughed.
‘Well, don’t be too entranced,’ Adele warned. ‘And don’t let any local Adonis chat you on board his boat,’ she added severely. ‘We don’t want you doing a Shirley Valentine. You have to come back.’
I’m my mother’s daughter, Zoe thought wryly. And she came back, whatever the incentive to stay.
Aloud, she said lightly, ‘No danger.’
She’d told the same story of her mother’s favourite island to Adele’s sister Vanessa when she made the booking at the travel agency. Notwithstanding, Vanessa had tried hard to talk her into going somewhere larger and livelier.
‘Thania’s never been a typical tourist resort,’ she’d protested. ‘A number of rich Athenians have homes there, and they like to keep the hordes at bay. The hotels are small, and the beaches are mostly private. It’s all low-key and the nightlife barely exists. The ferry runs just twice a day from Kefalonia.’
She brightened. ‘Why don’t you stay on Kefalonia instead? See all the places where they filmed Captain Corelli’s Mandolin. There’s plenty to do there, and you could always go on a day trip to Thania if you really want to see it.’
Zoe shook her head, keeping her face solemn. ‘Nicholas Cage went back to America a long time ago, so I think I’ll pass on Kefalonia this time around. Besides, somewhere small and peaceful is exactly what I want.’ She paused, then tried to sound casual. ‘I believe there’s a Hotel Stavros in Livassi. Maybe you could book me in there.’
Vanessa stabbed frowningly at her computer keys, then nodded with a touch of resignation. ‘Argonaut Holidays go there, one of the few companies that do, and they have vacancies, surprise, surprise.’ She stabbed again. ‘Bath, balcony, sea view?’
Terrace, thought Zoe, with steps leading up to it, and the sea beyond…
She smiled. ‘Ideal.’
She’d met with downright disapproval from George, who was still plainly disappointed that she’d gently but firmly turned down his proposal. ‘But you never go abroad on holiday.’ He sounded injured.
‘No, George,’ she said, still gently but firmly. ‘I never have in the past, that’s all.’
‘But if you’d mentioned it sooner, we could have gone somewhere together,’ he protested. ‘My mother did a tour a couple of years back—“The Treasures of Italy”. She enjoyed it, and the hotels were of a high standard. We could have done the same thing.’ He paused awkwardly. ‘I understand Greek plumbing is—rather eccentric.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘They told me all about it at the travel agency, and it’s not a problem.’ She gave him a steady look. ‘Besides, George, your mother would never have let you go on holiday with me—even if we’d been married.’
He flushed uncomfortably. ‘You’re wrong, Zoe. She’s always telling people how happy she’d be to have me off her hands—to have grandchildren.’
Certainly, thought Zoe, if it could be done by divine intervention, without having an all too human daughter-in-law in the equation.
‘So where exactly are you going?’ he asked.
Zoe shrugged, trying not to look shifty. ‘I thought I’d do some island hopping—never too long in one place. See what appeals,’ she told him airily.
She hated fibbing to George, but she knew his mother would have her destination out of him before his supper was on the table, and Aunt Megan would be next in line for the information. And, given her aunt’s extreme reaction to the picture, this would be bad news.
What a pity, she thought, that I can’t go to her. Ask her about it. Because she must know. I’m sure of that.
She hadn’t seen Mrs Arnold since that day, not even when she’d taken the cottage keys round to the house and dropped them through the letterbox. Her aunt had probably been at home, but there had seemed little point in another confrontation, whatever its purpose.
And she’d been frantically busy. In addition to the usual end of term workload, she’d managed to find herself temporary accommodation in a top-floor flat in an old Victorian house within walking distance of the college. It was furnished and the rent was reasonable, enabling her to put her mother’s cherished pieces in store for the future.
Which was something else she hadn’t mentioned to George—the fact that she’d given in her notice at the college and would be leaving at Christmas. Finding another job in a different area. A challenge that awaited her when she got back from Greece.
‘Ah, well, “sufficient unto the day”,’ she told herself silently.
She took a bottle of water from her shoulder bag, and drank thirstily. As she replaced the bottle she heard the crackle of paper, reminding her of the purpose of her visit. She’d brought the Greek deed of gift, together with the translation, and the photographs. But she had no intention of barging in and making a claim straight away.
First, she told herself, I need to find out how the land lies. For all I know, the villa’s original owner may have had second thoughts and revoked the gift years ago.
So I’ll find the house, and see who’s living there now. And if it’s obvious that giving it away was just a temporary aberration on someone’s part a long time ago, then I’ll just enjoy my holiday, and no harm done.
After all, it is a little bit too much like a fairy tale.
The Villa Danaë, she thought. She’d checked in a book of Greek myths and discovered that Danaë had been one of the many loved by Zeus, who had visited her in a stream of golden light. She’d subsequently given birth to Perseus and been set adrift on the ocean with her baby in a locked chest, but they’d both survived and Perseus had gone on to cut off the head of the Gorgon Medusa, and win the hand of Andromeda.
This is my own quest, she thought. My private odyssey. And decapitation will probably not be involved.
The