Vows of Revenge

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

D AMOS RELAXED BACK into his first-class airline seat. His mood was good. His generosity in making it known to Dr Michaelis that, yes, he would indeed sponsor next year’s season, had been rewarded when, after he’d made a carefully casual enquiry after Kassia Andrakis, the excavation’s director had told him she was currently in England, visiting her mother. Damos had noted with decided interest that she was going on to Oxford afterwards, for a conference.

It was exactly the intel Damos had wanted.

And now he, too, as it happened, was also headed for that very city...

It had been nearly three weeks since their dinner on his yacht, and he needed to make his next move. Yorgos Andrakis, so his information on that front was indicating, was definitely softening up Cosmo Palandrou, spending time with him and paying him attention.

For a moment Damos frowned. Yorgos Andrakis might want to marry his daughter off to Cosmo, but why would Kassia co-operate? After all, she had her own career, and she didn’t seem interested in being a fashionable socialite, so why would she do what her father wanted and marry a man almost as repellent as her own father?

His frown deepened. Not many people stood up to Yorgos Andrakis—maybe he would simply bully and browbeat Kassia until giving in was easier than opposing him? In which case...

In which case, having an affair with me that puts Cosmo Palandrou off her totally will actually be to her benefit. As well as mine.

It was a reassuring thought.

The flight attendant pausing by his seat to enquire what he might like to drink distracted him. He glanced up at her. She was blonde, good-looking, and it was obvious to him that she liked what she was seeing too. He smiled, but it was a perfunctory smile only as he gave his order.

For now there was only one female who was the focus of his thoughts and his attentions.

Kassia Andrakis.

And it was time to get to second base with her.

Kassia gazed up at the plaster replica statue of the two-metre-high kouros looming over her in the Ashmolean Museum. She always liked to look in at the Ashmolean whenever she was in Oxford, and it was a pleasant way to while away the afternoon before the opening dinner of the conference that started on the morrow.

She was glad to be in England—not just for a conference, where her old professor would be giving a presentation, or because she’d spent a few days seeing her mother, but because it was a welcome change of scene for her.

For all her determination, putting that evening on Damos Kallinikos’s yacht out of her head was proving more difficult than it should. Of course it was pointless to dwell on it—she kept telling herself that robustly—but for all that it would replay in her mind at odd moments, bringing it vividly into her thoughts again. Bringing him vividly into her thoughts again...

Which was ridiculous, as well as pointless. It was nearly three weeks ago, and Damos Kallinikos had been and gone from her life.

A voice behind her spoke.

‘This must be my lucky day—the perfect person to expound to me on this monumental youth.’

Kassia froze. Disbelievingly, she turned. As if she had conjured him from her very thoughts, Damos Kallinikos was standing there.

‘What on earth...?’ she heard herself say. Incredulity was spearing in her—and also something quite different from incredulity...something that made her breath catch in her throat. ‘What are you doing here?’

Damos Kallinikos smiled. ‘The same as you, it seems. Admiring this very handsome chap.’

‘But what are you doing in Oxford at all?’

There was still incomprehension in her voice, she knew. And incomprehension might be uppermost in her, but it was not her only reaction to what she was seeing. Her pulse had given a hectic kick, and not just from surprise. She felt suddenly breathless.

‘Oh, I’ve got some business here,’ he said, his voice casual. ‘What about you?’

‘A conference,’ she said mechanically. ‘It gets going this evening—at a pre-conference dinner—then runs tomorrow and the day after.’

She was still fighting down surprise—and that other, completely irrelevant reaction to seeing him again. Fighting down the urge to just gaze at him...helplessly and gormlessly.

‘More Bronze Age, I take it?’ Damos Kallinikos was asking conversationally.

She nodded abstractedly. ‘My old professor is giving a presentation on Mycenaean battle tactics.’

She got Damos Kallinikos’s wry smile. ‘Yet more I haven’t a clue about,’ he said. His glance went past her to the gigantic kouros behind her. ‘Just like this guy. So, tell me about him. Why’s he smiling like that?’

She turned sideways, between Damos and the kouros . ‘Oh, that’s the famous Archaic smile. It’s on loads of statues from that era—between the Dark Ages that followed on from the collapse of the Bronze Age, to just before the Classical Era proper in the fifth century. Statuary in the Archaic period was very static—probably deriving from Egyptian styles. Just the left foot forward... Greek sculpture only really took off in the fifth century—’

She was gabbling, she knew she was, but shock—and so much more—was still overpowering her.

She felt her arm taken.

‘Fascinating,’ Damos Kallinikos murmured. ‘So, what else has this place got? I only wandered in as I’m staying at the hotel opposite.’ He guided her towards some display cabinets a little way off. ‘What’s this lot in here?’ he asked.

Mechanically, Kassia started to expound upon and explain the contents, amplifying the descriptive cards. Her head was reeling. How had Damos Kallinikos suddenly turned up like this, out of the blue, in the Ashmolean Museum, of all places? How come he was here in Oxford on business at all, when she was here for a conference? And how come he just happened to be in the museum when she was?

Well, coincidences do happen , she thought helplessly. However unlikely, sometimes you did just bump into someone you never expected to.

He was still listening to what she was telling him, distracted though she knew she sounded, but when they’d exhausted two more display cabinets he held up a hand.

‘That’s it—you’ve hit the limit of my brain capacity! Time for tea.’

‘Tea?’ Kassia said blankly, as if he’d suggested something she’d never heard of.

‘Yes, afternoon tea. My hotel does a very good one, so I’m told. Come along—you must be parched after that ancient history lesson you’ve given me.’

Once again she felt her arm taken, then she was being guided up the stairs to the entrance level, and out into the fresh late-summer air.

‘That’s my hotel,’ Damos Kallinikos said, pointing across the road.

Kassia was not surprised—it was the most expensive in Oxford.

He guided her down the broad flight of shallow steps from the museum to the pavement, and then across the road. Kassia was still trying to make sense of what was happening...encountering Damos Kallinikos again, totally unexpectedly. And why he was bothering to spend time with her.

She tried to rationalise it in her head. Well, why shouldn’t they have tea together? They did know each other, albeit slightly, and he had, after all—so she’d heard from Dr Michaelis—agreed to sponsor next year’s season. Maybe that explained his asking her more about the ancient world?

Yet as they settled down to be served it was not antiquities that Damos asked her about.

‘Do you know Oxford well?’ he posed.

‘Not very well, no,’ she answered. ‘Only for conferences, really.’

‘This isn’t your old university?’

She gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘No, nothing so lofty! I went to a north-country uni—decidedly redbrick.’

He frowned. ‘Redbrick?’

‘Just about any university more modern than Oxbridge,’ she explained dryly.

‘Oxbridge?’ He frowned again.

‘Short for Oxford and Cambridge,’ she expounded. ‘One is either Oxbridge or one is not,’ she went on, even more dryly. ‘I’m definitely not . But I do get to go to conferences here sometimes.’

He looked at her. ‘It sounds very elitist.’

She could hear an edge in his voice. Condemnation.

‘All of academia is elitist, really, if you think about it. An ivory tower. It’s a privilege to be part of it—even if I’m only from a humble redbrick or a provincial Greek museum. Speaking of which,’ she went on, ‘Dr Michaelis is delighted at your decision to help fund next season’s dig.’

‘Well, I hope he’s thanked you for your sterling efforts to that end over dinner that evening!’ came the reply.

‘I didn’t really do anything,’ Kassia said awkwardly. ‘Just bored on about the Bronze Age.’

‘It was,’ said Damos Kallinikos, ‘far from boring.’

His eyes—dark, thickly lashed, and with an expression in them that did things to her heart rate—were resting on her for a moment, and to her dismay Kassia felt her cheeks flush with colour. To her relief, the waiter arrived, setting down their repast. It was lavish in the extreme, with savouries, scones, jam and cream, and sweet pastries.

Kassia’s eyes widened.

‘I’ll never manage the conference dinner tonight if I eat all this!’ she exclaimed humorously.

‘Looks good, doesn’t it?’ Damos agreed cheerfully. ‘Get stuck in!’

Kassia did—it looked too good to resist. And then she realised the waiter was setting down not just a teapot, but two glasses of gently fizzing sparkling wine.

‘To celebrate,’ Damos said, handing her one and lifting his own.

‘Um...celebrate what?’ Kassia asked, confused.

He smiled across at her. ‘Afternoon tea,’ he said. ‘One of the great contributions to civilised life!’

Kassia laughed—she couldn’t help it. And nor could she help feeling her cheeks colour again, just because of the way Damos Kallinikos was smiling at her.

Oh, dear God, but he was just so...so...

Descriptive words failed her—and were quite unnecessary. Because the colour in her cheeks, and the skipping of her heart rate, the sense of effervescence in her veins, was telling her just how strongly she was reacting to seeing him again.

I thought our paths would never cross again. That he’d been and gone from my life. And now...

Now here she was, totally unexpectedly, totally out of the blue, having afternoon tea with him in Oxford’s best hotel...

As coincidences went, running into him like this as she had, it was beyond amazing.

‘Cheers!’ said Damos Kallinikos, clinking his glass lightly against hers, smiling across at her with his warm, wonderful smile.

She took a sip of the sparkling wine, feeling suddenly light-headed, dipping her eyes. Whatever extraordinary coincidence had caused Damos Kallinikos to step back into her life, even if just for afternoon tea, she was very, very glad of it.

It was definitely worth enjoying.

Damos set down his glass and reached for one of the delicately cut sandwiches. Satisfaction was filling him. Kassia had accepted completely that there was nothing more behind their encounter than sheer coincidence, just as she’d accepted his invitation to afternoon tea.

She clearly welcomes meeting me again, and is happy to spend time with me.

Second base had definitely been achieved. Now it would be a question of building on it. OK, so for the next couple of days she’d be occupied at the conference, but after that...? Time to put himself in her diary.

‘What will you be doing after the conference?’ he asked. ‘I think you mentioned over dinner that you visit your mother when you’re in the UK...?’

Kassia reached for a savoury tart and started to eat it delicately. Damos surveyed her through half-lidded eyes. Though she was neatly dressed, the long-sleeved top and trousers she was wearing were very unexciting, he found himself thinking. She was still not wearing any make-up, and her hair, though again very neat, was simply pulled back into a knot on her nape.

Why does she not make more of herself?

His gaze rested on her assessingly. He had been prepared for her lack of chic, but he still wondered at her apparent complete lack of interest in fashion or her appearance. His gaze lingered for a moment. And yet her bone structure was good, and there were those light, almost silvery eyes, and her slender figure showed itself off in her delicately sculpted collarbones and the elegant length of her forearms.

Her reply to his question distracted his thoughts.

‘I spent a few days with her before I came to Oxford,’ she was saying. ‘She lives in the Cotswolds, so not too far from here.’

‘Very scenic, I believe, the Cotswolds,’ Damos commented.

He knew more about her mother now—he’d had her checked out. She was remarried to a retired industrialist, enjoyed a plentiful social life, and holidayed a lot. Just how much communication she had with her ex-husband he wasn’t sure, but he could not risk it. Could not risk word of his forthcoming affair with Yorgos Andrakis’s daughter getting back to Athens.

Fortunately, his sources had indicated that she was likely to be taking off for an annual late-summer holiday at her husband’s villa in Estepona, in southern Spain, so she should be off the scene shortly. That would fit in nicely with his own planned timing.

‘I don’t know much about this part of England,’ he went on musingly. ‘Apart from Oxford itself, and the Cotswolds, what else is worth seeing? I ask because I’ve business in London late next week, so I’ve some days free for sightseeing here. What do you recommend?’

‘Um...it depends what you like,’ Kassia replied.

She sounded awkward again.

‘Oh, the usual tourist things,’ he said airily. ‘What about grand stately homes? England is famous for them, after all.’

‘Well,’ she ventured hesitantly, ‘Blenheim Palace is only a few miles out of Oxford, if you want to stay local.’

‘Sounds perfect,’ he said, taking another savoury and starting to demolish it. ‘Why don’t you show it to me?’

‘Me?’ She looked taken aback.

‘Yes, we could make a day of it—after your conference.’

‘Er—um...’ Her hesitation was palpable.

‘Do you have something else planned?’ he posed.

She might, for all he knew. Presumably she had friends in England. She might have arranged to see them while she was here, as well as her mother.

‘No...no, not really,’ she replied awkwardly. ‘I might visit an old schoolfriend, but not till next weekend.’

Damos smiled encouragingly. ‘Good,’ he said, and started on the scones.

He was past second base and things were going just the way he wanted them to. He spread cream and jam generously on his cut scone, took a hearty bite, and with his free hand indicated the remaining delicacies.

‘Eat up,’ he said cheerfully. ‘And tell me all you know about Blenheim Palace. Now that we’ll be visiting it together...’

Kassia sat in her seat at the conference, but her mind was not on the presentation. It was back on having afternoon tea with Damos Kallinikos.

Damos Kallinikos, who had turned up out of the blue, in Oxford, taken her off to tea at his hotel, and then lined her up to visit Blenheim Palace with him the day after tomorrow.

Why?

That was the question in her head. Why did he want to spend more time with her? Accosting her at the Ashmolean might just be explicable, with reference to his decision to fund Dr Michaelis next season. But taking her to tea? Going off to Blenheim with her?

It didn’t make sense.

I’m the last kind of female a man like him would spend time with.

She knew that for certain now. Back in Greece she’d been unable to resist the temptation of looking him up on the Internet—and what had leapt onto her screen had not been his business affairs, in which she was not really interested anyway, and besides he’d already told her it was marine and shipping and so on, but what interested the tabloids and celebrity magazines. And that was, quite definitely, his social life. A social life which always seemed to involve him having a beautiful female draped on his arm. She’d counted at least two women familiar from the TV, one of whom was a fashion model, and another two who were well-known socialites in Athens. What they all had in common was the fact that they were show-stoppingly beautiful and glamorous...

And if there was one description which would never be used of herself it was that.

Just as she had in her bedroom after that dinner on his yacht, she felt a wave of sudden longing go through her. Oh, to be capable of looking glamorous—beautiful—show-stopping—stunning!

But it was hopeless. She’d always known that.

Her father had spelt it out brutally, with his sneering criticism of her gangly frame, and even her mother, far more kindly, had sighed because nothing she ate ever seemed to give her any curves or stop her growing so tall. On top of that, her hair was mouse-coloured and hung limply if loosened, and her eyes were too pale, her lashes likewise. So she’d never bothered trying to dress fashionably, never bothered to do anything with her lank hair, never bothered to wear any make-up.

But then in the world she lived in none of that mattered. Academia might be an ivory tower, as she’d remarked to Damos the day before over tea, but in it you were never judged on your looks.

After all, she thought, it was not as if she never dated. She had as a student and still did—fellow archaeologists and academics—only it was never with anyone remotely in Damos Kallinikos’s league.

She gave a sigh. She must stop thinking about him. Yes, it was unlikely that he wanted to spend a day visiting Blenheim with her, but maybe he just preferred to have some kind of company, and someone who was English and knew a fair amount about history in general. Anyway, she’d agreed, and that was that.

We’ll spend the day there, see the palace, then he’ll drop me back in Oxford and wave goodbye.

Paths diverging again.

And Damos Kallinikos would be out of her life, and she wouldn’t see him again.

Again.

‘Now, that,’ Damos said, ‘is impressive!’

He gazed at the huge bulk of Blenheim Palace, now revealed in all its massive glory after their walk from the car park.

‘It is,’ Kassia agreed.

She still couldn’t quite believe that Damos had followed through on his casual suggestion that she accompany him here—and yet here she was. He’d picked her up in a hire car—a very swish one—from outside the college where the conference attendees had been staying. She’d felt shy at first, and awkward, as they’d headed out of Oxford, but Damos had been relaxed, and clearly putting himself out to put her at her ease.

In return, she would do her best to be a helpful guide for the day, she told herself firmly.

‘Didn’t you tell me over tea the other day that it’s the only non-royal palace in England?’ Damos asked her now, as they strolled into the huge and impressive Great Court in front of the grand entrance, along with the many other visitors the palace attracted.

‘Yes—though ironically it’s sometimes used in films as a substitute for Buckingham Palace!’ she replied.

‘Remind me why it’s got a German name,’ Damos said.

‘It’s named after the first Duke of Marlborough’s most famous victory, at the Battle of Blenheim, in Bavaria in 1704. England and Austria were fighting the Bavarians and Louis XIV of France. It was designed by John Vanbrugh and took over ten years to build. It’s so large that apparently the first Duchess, the infamous Sarah Churchill, bossy confidante of poor Queen Anne, hated it. She complained the kitchens were so far from the dining room the food was always cold!’

Damos laughed, turning his head to look at her. ‘You know all this stuff without even consulting the guide book—it’s amazing!’

She made a self-deprecating face. ‘Well, I guess history overall is my subject, really—if you like one period you like lots. I’ve been here before, too, when I was a schoolgirl. Though not since.’ She glanced sideways at him. ‘It’s good to come again—thank you for inviting me,’ she said politely.

‘Thank you for accepting my invitation,’ he responded promptly.

There was a glint in his eye. She could see it.

‘I can tell you not that many females of my acquaintance would think this a fun day out!’

She looked away. No, the kind of women he ran around with—those beautiful and glamorous TV personalities, models and socialites—wouldn’t be seen dead playing tourist like this. Her thoughts flickered. It wasn’t the kind of outing a man like him would be likely to enjoy either, she’d have thought. It didn’t exactly compare with sailing around on his private yacht... One of his private yachts, she reminded herself tartly.

But maybe I’m just overthinking it. OK, he’s rich now, but he wasn’t born to it, so he probably doesn’t think it beneath him to be a tourist. After all, I don’t think it beneath me—and I was born to wealth.

Not that she lived that kind of life. She far preferred the low-profile existence she had—working as an archaeologist, having as little to do with her father as she could. Most of the time he let her alone, but from time to time he summoned her to Athens to play her role as his daughter, such as it was, and attend dinner parties, functions—that kind of thing. Her father made it clear to her on such occasions that she was not to put herself forward, but to be meek and docile, and not bore people with all her ‘archaeology nonsense’, as he called it.

‘It’s bad enough being saddled with a daughter as plain as you,’ he would say dismissively.

She would have preferred not to be summoned, but was mindful that her father had made himself a patron of the museum she worked at—to defy him would be to lose that patronage, she knew. So, since he didn’t often want her in Athens, going along with his demands didn’t seem too onerous an obligation, although she was always glad when it was over. Her father was not pleasant company...

Of her two parents, she far preferred spending time with her mother—not that her butterfly of a mother, affectionate though she was, ever had much time for her in between her constant social engagements and flitting abroad on holidays with her husband. Kassia was fond of her mother, and indeed her stepfather, whose stolid patience was a good foil for his flighty wife, but she didn’t see a great deal of them. It had been good, though, to spend a few days with them on this visit, before they’d headed out to Spain.

‘OK, where are we going first?’

Damos’s question interrupted her thoughts.

‘Can you face a tour of the palace?’ she asked. ‘The state apartments are as impressive as the exterior.’

‘Why not? Then we can explore the grounds afterwards.’

They made their way to where the tours began. Inside, Damos gazed around the magnificent rooms appreciatively, and gave a low whistle.

‘That first duke certainly made good for himself!’ he murmured admiringly, pausing to take in all the splendour.

‘He got to the top from relatively humble beginnings. He was very ambitious—as was his wife,’ she commented dryly.

‘There’s nothing wrong with ambition.’

The acerbic note in Damos’s voice was audible. Kassia looked at him.

‘Without ambition, hard work gets you nowhere,’ Damos said. ‘With it, anything can be achieved.’

‘I... I suppose it depends on what you want,’ Kassia said cautiously.

She had a feeling she was hitting Damos Kallinikos on a nerve. Maybe one that was still raw, given his own rise from humble beginnings. He was looking at her with an expression in his eyes she hadn’t seen before.

‘You’re second-generation wealth, Kassia,’ he said. ‘Oh, you may work diligently in your career, but you have that cushion of wealth behind you all the same. It gives you a sense of security, of expectation, that you are scarcely aware of.’

She swallowed. ‘I know I’ve had a privileged upbringing, but I try not to exploit it.’

A short laugh came from him. She did not hear any humour in it. Only vehemence as he spoke, biting out the words.

‘Privileged, all the same. You’ve never felt the hunger of an outsider. University was out of the question for me. You said to me at the dig—I remember it quite clearly—that I wouldn’t want to get my hands dirty. But I’ve done my years of hard manual labour, believe me. While you were enjoying the luxury of higher education, paid for by your father, I’d been working since I was fifteen on the docks—crewing on private yachts and merchant marine, working to make money, save money, give myself a financial base and make something of myself, haul myself up the ladder rung by rung. It isn’t easy starting from scratch. It takes determination and, yes, ambition—and I’ve got both, or I would never have achieved what I have.’

Kassia was silent. Her father, too, was ambitious and determined—ruthlessly so. Seizing every and any opportunity to make money, boasting of how he’d built himself up from nowhere by snapping up ailing businesses driven to the wall during Greece’s prolonged financial crisis fifteen years earlier at rock-bottom prices. He’d done it again during the more recent pandemic. Then he’d sacked as many employees as he could, stripped out any valuable assets, and run the businesses at the least cost and greatest profit to himself, before moving on to his next acquisition. He was probably working on another one right now—he usually was.

‘I apologise. I didn’t mean to speak so critically.’

Damos’s voice cut across her darkening thoughts, no longer vehement now, and she was relieved. Surely there was no reason to think Damos Kallinikos as ruthless as her father? But then, where did the balance come between ambition and ruthlessness?

‘Please,’ she responded immediately, ‘I didn’t mean to condemn simply being ambitious, or wanting to make money. It’s just that my father...’ She hesitated, then went on awkwardly, ‘Well, you must know his reputation for ruthlessness in business, riding roughshod over people, making use of anyone he can to achieve his ambitions—’

She broke off, not wanting to compare Damos to her father. Wanting to think better of him.

‘Whatever your father’s business practices are, Kassia,’ Damos said tightly, ‘ I made my money honestly.’

For a moment she met his eyes full-on, knowing there was a troubled look in her own. Then she looked away, blinking. She felt a brief touch on her arm. Damos was speaking again, his voice lighter now, but still pointed.

‘Let’s change the subject—not spoil this very pleasant day. So...’ he took a breath, making his voice warmer ‘...what’s this next room?’

He guided her forward into an adjoining chamber as magnificent as the last one. They were all magnificent—a breathtaking enfilade, with doorways ornamented, walls bedecked with tapestries and portraits, floors richly carpeted, curtains heavy and silken, furniture gilded and ornate, tables laden with silver and priceless porcelain.

‘Not exactly homely,’ Damos said dryly.

Good humour was back in his voice now, and Kassia was glad. Relieved. She made her tone of voice match his.

‘Well, these are the state apartments, so they are designed for showing off grandeur and opulence! I’m sure the current Duke has a wing or whatever, for himself and his family that is far cosier,’ Kassia replied.

‘That’s reassuring,’ Damos observed. ‘These massive rooms are OK in the summer, but everyone must freeze in a British winter!’

Kassia laughed. That moment of friction between them had been uncomfortable, but it was over. She could relax again.

‘English country houses of the time were infamous for being freezing, however many fireplaces they had! I believe it wasn’t until the impoverished aristocracy started marrying all those American dollar princesses at the end of the nineteenth century that things like central heating were installed.’

‘Dollar princesses?’ Damos posed.

‘American heiresses to all the new money being made in the USA at the time. They arrived in Europe to snap up titled husbands in exchange for their huge dowries. Consuelo Vanderbilt was one. She married the Duke, the cousin of Winston Churchill, whose own mother, Jenny Jerome, was another dollar princess.’

‘Tell me more,’ said Damos, and Kassia did.

She was much happier talking about such things than touching on how Damos Kallinikos had made his money and hoping it wasn’t anything like the way her father had made his. Her father was the most ruthless man she knew, stooping to any level to increase his wealth.

I don’t want Damos to be like that—to be anything like him!

Why, she didn’t want to question—except she knew that she wouldn’t want anyone to be like her father.

And why should Damos be like him? There are plenty of decent ways of making money—hard work, high achievements. No need at all for him to be as ruthless as my father...

State apartments all viewed, as well as Winston Churchill’s birth room—surprisingly modest, as Damos pointed out to her—they made their way outdoors. The warmth of the day wrapped around them, and Kassia felt her spirits warming too.

‘Lunch?’ suggested Damos.

Kassia nodded.

‘Let’s sit outside, and decide where to go next,’ he went on, leading the way to one of the several eateries Blenheim offered—this one with outdoor seating in a courtyard leading to the gardens beyond.

They chatted amiably over a light but tasty lunch of soup and a sandwich for her, and traditional English sausages, mash and gravy for Damos, which he ate with relish. They rounded off the meal with coffee and a selection from the bakery.

‘It’s nice that you don’t feel the need to calorie-count,’ Damos said, and smiled as Kassia finished off her rich brownie.

She made a face. ‘One of the perks of being a piece of string!’ she said lightly.

‘String?’

She gave a little shrug. ‘It’s what my father always calls me. A piece of string.’

Damos’s eyes narrowed. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘you’re taller than he is, aren’t you?’

Kassia looked surprised. ‘Well, yes—but then I’m taller than a lot of men. You’re one of the few exceptions—’ She broke off, not wanting to be too personal. ‘My mother, by contrast, is petite,’ she went on. ‘She always says—’

She broke off again.

‘She always says...?’ Damos prompted.

Kassia gave another shrug. ‘She always says she thought I’d never stop shooting up. That I must take after her grandfather.’

Into her head came her mother’s familiar next words.

‘Of course, for a man it doesn’t matter, being so tall...’

Her mother would have loved her to be petite and curvaceous, as she herself was. To be pretty and ultra-feminine simply for Kassia’s own sake. Her father, by contrast, had she been possessed of such beauty, would have doubtless touted her off in fashionable circles and probably tried to marry her off to someone he could make use of. Another businessman...a politician—it wouldn’t have mattered who to her father, so long as the marriage benefited himself. Her own preference would have been irrelevant to him.

At least her lack of looks protected her from that kind of pressure. That was something to be grateful for, she thought ironically. Except that now...

She gave a silent sigh. A man like Damos Kallinikos was used to having only beautiful and glamorous women at his side, and she knew that for the first time in her life she would have loved to be in that league. She sighed again. She was yearning for something that was impossible...quite impossible.

She became aware that Damos was looking at her speculatively, with a look in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. She wondered at it. But then it was gone.

He picked up his coffee cup, draining it. ‘Time to hit the gardens,’ he said. ‘How about starting with the water terraces? They’re the closest.’

‘Sounds good.’

Kassia smiled. She was glad of the change of subject—talking about herself had made her feel self-conscious, and not in a good way. Exploring Blenheim’s glorious gardens would be far more pleasant.

They made their way out of the courtyard and took the path leading to the upper water terrace, adjacent to the west front of the palace. It was certainly impressive, and they wandered leisurely along the paths around the ornate stone ponds. Kassia paused for a moment to trail her fingers in the cool water, and Damos did likewise, having turned back the cuffs of his shirt beforehand. Kassia tried not to let her gaze linger on the lean strength of his wrists, or the square solidity of his hands. Hands, she supposed must have hauled up sails and set rigging and done any amount of hard manual labour in their time.

Now, though, an expensive watch snaked around his lean, strong wrist.

‘Don’t let that get wet!’ she exclaimed warningly.

Damos glanced at her. ‘Waterproof to three hundred metres,’ he said. ‘I could wear it scuba diving if I wanted.’

‘Do you?’ she asked, perching herself on the wide stone rim of the fountain. ‘Scuba dive, I mean? Not wear a zillion-euro watch while you do it.’

‘No,’ he said. He perched himself beside her. ‘I haven’t the time.’

‘That’s a shame. Now that you’ve made money, could you not relax more?’

She’d meant what she’d said. But her thoughts went back to what he’d said about ambition. Maybe he felt he still hadn’t made enough money? Maybe he was determined to be richer still? Was he still chasing his next achievement?

A sideways look came her way. ‘Isn’t that what I’m doing now? Relaxing...taking time out to be a tourist?’

Kassia smiled. ‘Well, maybe it will help give you a taste for relaxing more—taking your foot off the business accelerator.’

He didn’t answer, only idly laced the water between his fingers. For a few moments longer they went on sitting there, side by side, hands casually stirring the water, hearing birdsong all around them, other visitors wandering past, sunshine bathing them all.

She gazed about her at all the splendour of their surroundings in the summery warmth. This day had come out of nowhere...being here with Damos Kallinikos who, for whatever inexplicable reason, seemed to want to spend it with her. But she wasn’t going to question it. All she was going to do was simply enjoy it...

Damos levered himself to his feet. ‘Shall we check out the lower water terrace now?’ he posed.

Kassia stood up, and they made their way off the upper terrace.

‘Apparently, the fountains on the lower terrace are in the style of Bernini’s fountain in the Piazza Navona in Rome,’ Kassia remarked.

‘Have you been to Rome?’ Damos asked casually.

He wanted to keep all his conversation with her casual. He’d been unnecessarily intense on the house tour, sounding off about how hard he’d had to work to get where he was today. His own assertion echoed in his head now.

‘I made my money honestly.’

Well, it was true, he thought defiantly. He had made his money honestly—he had never cheated, or undercut, or been underhand. When the time came he would make Cosmo a fair offer for his business—once he’d disposed of Yorgos Andrakis’s attempt to snap it up, using his own daughter to do so.

Just as you are doing.

The words hung in his head, making him suddenly uneasy.

He dismissed them.

It would stop her father using her, he retorted instantly. And nothing her father wanted would be in Kassia’s interest—certainly not being bullied and browbeaten into marrying Cosmo Palandrou.

Whereas what I want is, in fact, in Kassia’s interest.

And not just to protect her from her father’s ruthless ambitions.

Her words over lunch came back to him. He’d wondered why she did not make more of her appearance, but now he was pretty sure he knew the answer. His mouth tightened. He’d take a bet that Yorgos Andrakis, powerfully built and physically imposing, well used to overbearing other people with his abrupt and hectoring manner, did not like it that his own daughter dwarfed him—it would put his back up straight off. And it sounded as if her mother simply made her even more self-conscious about her slender height.

His glance went to Kassia, walking beside him. She wasn’t hunching her shoulders, he noticed. Presumably because he was taller than her and she didn’t need to? Her now straight back and shoulders gave a graceful sway to her body as they strolled along...

‘A couple of times,’ Kassia said.

Damos realised with a start that she was answering his question about whether she’d visited Rome.

‘The remains of ancient Rome are very splendid, but they’re a thousand years and more later than my period.’ She smiled.

‘Yet two thousand years ago from the present day?’ he commented. He frowned deliberately. ‘History does seem to occupy an inordinate length of time,’ he said ponderously.

She laughed, and he liked the sound of it.

‘And on that profound note,’ he said, lightly and self-mockingly, ‘shall we head down towards the lake?’

‘That would be nice,’ she replied politely.

He gave a laugh. ‘We don’t have to if you don’t want to—there’s a lot else to see.’

‘Well, it’s your day out, after all,’ she answered. ‘I can come here any time, really, whenever I visit my mother, but you might not be in this area again.’

‘True,’ he murmured.

Truer than she realised...

I’m only here at all because I am in pursuit of you.

And his pursuit of her was for a very specific reason...

He’d said, back there on the upper water terrace, that he was taking today out to relax, but he’d spoken disingenuously. If he had to file this day—this entire trip to the UK—under anything, it would not be ‘leisure’. Making up to Kassia Andrakis was serving a business purpose—a clear and unambiguous one.

His glance went to her as they strolled along the winding path leading them towards the lake, his gaze veiled. Yes, he’d forged this acquaintance with Kassia Andrakis for one purpose only.

But is it only one?

The question was in his head, and he could not dismiss it.

Or deny it.

Was his intention to have an affair with her simply a means to thwart her father’s plans for her in respect of Cosmo Palandrou? Was it really the only reason he was spending time with her? Or was another reason making itself felt?

Because he was enjoying the day, he realised. Enjoying this leisurely ambling around this magnificent place, seeing the spectacular fruits of one man’s towering ambitions. He was enjoying the ease of the day, enjoying feeling as relaxed as he was, and enjoying thinking about something quite other than what usually dominated his thoughts: his endless business concerns.

I’m enjoying being with Kassia.

She was so very different from the women he was used to consorting with. True, if it hadn’t been that she was Yorgos Andrakis’s daughter he knew he would not have bothered to know her at all. But now that he did...

I like her. I like her company, her conversation. I like her courtesy and her consideration and her knowledge of things I know nothing about, which she makes interesting and easy to enjoy.

And he knew there was something else he liked about her. The fact that she was not indifferent to him.

Oh, he wanted her to be responsive to him—that was essential if he was to have the affair he planned with her. But now he found he wanted it for reasons quite different from that purpose. Reasons he had not expected at all when he’d first engineered an encounter with her. Reasons he knew he had to acknowledge.

Even if she were not Yorgos Andrakis’s daughter I would want her to be responsive to me...

His veiled gaze rested on her as they strolled along, chatting about things that seemed easy to chat about, such as the way the gardens had been laid out and what else there was to see. But as it rested on her, he frowned. There was something about Kassia Andrakis that he did not want.

I don’t want her thinking about herself as she does—with that dismissive criticism of herself, as if she agrees with her parents’ verdict on her—as if she sees nothing amiss in the way she remarked, on my yacht, that men only make up to her because of whose daughter she is. I don’t like the way she thinks so little of her looks and her appearance.

He did not like that at all.

A sense of irony struck him. Kassia’s background might be privileged, but her self-image was anything but. Determination speared through him, and he realised he had just taken on board a new sense of purpose. To reveal to Kassia the beauty that could be hers...

For his own sake, yes—he was honest enough to concede that point—but for something he hadn’t thought would matter to him. Now it did.

For her sake too.