Free Pagan Lover by Anne Hampson Page B

us, no matter what his obligation is to you!’
    He looked at her imperturbably.
    ‘If you do protest,’ he said quietly, ‘then I shall send him away.’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘And you will from that night on become my mistress.’ She said nothing, because she had known of the choice she would have to make, had been fully aware that all these protestations and threats were worthless against the whip-hand held by this heartless and determined foreigner.
    ‘He’s coming aboard, you say?’
    ‘Of course. Is it likely that I would risk taking you ashore?’
    ‘I’ve no choice then, but to—to marry you?’ It seemed impossible that anyone could force another person into marriage, and yet it was the case. Marriage or ... the other. Well, marriage it would have to be, but she would think of nothing but escape until that escape was effected.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SIX

     

     
    TARA first saw the
island
of
Hyra
in the sunset glow of early evening. One of the ‘Siren Isles’ of the Saronic Gulf, it appeared from out of the sea like a mermaid floating on the calm waves, and despite her situation she found herself showing interest in the place where she was to live. Leon had told her a little of the island’s history, so she knew it had once been the haunt of brave buccaneering men but that in recent years many writers, artists and ship-owners had been attracted to its shores. The big houses on the hillsides were owned by the wealthy, and had been for many years.
Leon’s home was one of these. She had learned that he was a ship-owner but that he had interests elsewhere, and one of these interests was fashion. The House of Hera, famous for feminine clothes of distinction, belonged to him. This information, given to her casually, explained his previous use of the word ‘models’, and of the assertion that his taste was considered perfect. He himself designed many of the exclusive gowns for which the House of Hera had become world-famed. This knowledge of his possessing artistic qualities had had an unexpected effect on
Tara, since from then on she had re-regarded him less of a monster than before. All the same, her one all-absorbing idea was that of escape, and this, she felt, might be possible on landing on the island.
    She was standing by the rail when
Leon came up to her.
    ‘When we get a little closer I’ll point out our house to you.’
    She stiffened. Our house.... A fluttering sensation affected her stomach, for somehow his words had the sort of finality about them which seemed to mean that her whole future was mapped out and there was nothing in the world that could alter it. She was her husband’s possession; that was their house; she would be installed in it and from then on she would be nothing more than a slave, a chattel, like-most women of the East. There was desperation in her voice as, turning to him and unconsciously brushing his face with her hair, she retorted,
    ‘ Your house, you mean! It can never be our house!’ He frowned down at her, his mouth going tight.
    ‘What is this?’ he demanded sharply. ‘Are you still thinking that you will run from me?’
      ‘I’d be a poor specimen of womanhood if I were to accept this bondage you’re holding me in. Of course I shall try to escape!’
    For a moment it seemed that he would lose his temper, but to her surprise the tightness went from his mouth and the glint from his eyes.
    ‘I’ve already assured you that you will thank me one day,’ he said. ‘We shall probably have a child before very long—there might even be one on the way now— and then perhaps you will become resigned to your lot.’
    Tara’s teeth came together. A child on the way! Strange that through several nights of passion the idea had not once come to her. Oh, God, please don’t let that happen to me! she thought. Could she ever hope to escape if that did happen?
Leon would never allow her to take his child from him, and she felt sure she could never