All That Glitters Read online

  Jessica flung aside the covers and stood up, her bearing erect and proud, her head high. "You're right about one thing," she said in a clipped voice. "I'm not the woman for you."

  He watched silently as she went over to her gown and picked it up from the floor, slipping quickly into it. As she slid her feet into her shoes, she said, "Good-bye, Nikolas. It's been an interesting experience."

  "Don't be so hasty, my dear," he jeered cruelly. "Before you walk out that door, you should consider that you could gain even more by being my mistress than you did by marrying Robert Stanton. I'm prepared to pay well."

  Bitter pride kept her from reacting to that jibe. "Thanks, but no, thanks," she said carelessly, opening the door. "I'll wait for a better offer from another man. Don't bother seeing me out, Nikolas. You aren't dressed for it."

  He actually laughed, throwing back his arrogant head. "Call me if you change your mind," he said by way of good-bye, and she walked out without looking back.

  She called Charles early the next morning and told him that she would be out of town for several weeks. She hadn't cried, her eyes had remained dry and burning, but she knew that she couldn't remain in London. She would return only when Nikolas had left, flown back to his island. "I'm going to the cottage," she told Charles. "And don't tell Nikolas where I am, though I doubt that he'll bother to ask. If you let me down in this, Charles, I swear I won't ever speak to you again."

  "Had a spat, did you?" he asked, amusement evident in his voice.

  "No, it was really a rather quiet parting of the ways.

  He called me a whore and said I wasn't good enough to marry, and I walked out," she explained coolly.

  "My God!" Charles said something under his breath, then said urgently, "Are you all right, Jessica? Are you certain you should go haring off to Cornwall by yourself? Give yourself time to calm down."

  "I'm very calm," she said, and she was. "I need a holiday and I'm taking it. You know where I am if anything urgent comes up, but other than that, I don't expect to see you for several weeks."

  "Very well. Jessica, dear, are you certain?"

  "Of course. I'm perfectly all right. Don't worry, Charles. I'm taking Samantha and the pups with me; they'll enjoy romping around Cornwall."

  After hanging up, she made certain everything in the house was turned off, picked up her purse and walked out, carefully locking the door behind her. Her luggage was already in the car, as were Samantha and her wiggling, energetic family, traveling in a large box.

  The rest in Cornwall would do her good, help her to forget Nikolas Constantinos. She had had a close call and she was grateful that she had escaped with her self-respect intact. At least she had prevented him from realizing how shattered she was.

  Turning it over and over in her mind as she made the long drive to Cornwall, she wondered if she hadn't known all along just what Nikolas thought of her. Why else had she mentioned marriage at such a moment, when he was on the brink of making love to her? Hadn't she subconsciously realized that he would not let her think he intended marriage in order to seduce her?

  She was glad that she hadn't told him that she was a virgin; he would have laughed in her face. She could have proved it to him, he would no doubt have demanded proof, but she was too proud. Why should she prove anything to him? She had loved Robert and he had loved her, and she would not apologize for their marriage. Somehow she would forget Nikolas Constantinos, wipe him out of her thoughts. She would not let his memory destroy her life!

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  For six weeks Jessica pored over the newspapers, searching for any notice, however small, to indicate that Nikolas had returned to Greece. He was mentioned several times, but it was always to say that he was flying here or there for a conference, and a day or so later she would read that he had returned to London. Why was he staying in England? He had never before remained for so long, always returning to his island at the first opportunity. She had no contact with Charles, so she couldn't ask him for any information, not that she would have anyway. She didn't want to know about Nikolas, she told herself fiercely time and again, but that didn't ease the ache in her heart that kept her lying awake night after night and turned food to ashes in her mouth.

  She lost weight, her already slim figure becoming fragile. Instead of recovering, she was in danger of going into a Victorian decline, she told herself mockingly, but no amount of willpower could make her swallow more than a bite or two of food at any meal.

  Long walks with Samantha and the gamboling puppies for company tired her out but did not reduce her to the state of exhaustion that she needed in order to sleep. After a while she began to feel haunted. Everything reminded her of Nikolas, though nothing was the same as it had been in London. She heard his voice, she remem-bered his devouring kisses, his fierce possessiveness. Perhaps he hadn't loved her, but he had certainly wanted her; he had been quite blatant about his desire.

  Had he expected her to return to him? Was that why he was still in London? The thought was heady, but she knew that nothing had changed. He would take her on his terms, or not at all.

  Still she lingered at the cottage, walking every day down to the beach, where the vacationers romped and children went into ecstatic fits over the five fat, prancing puppies. They had been weaned now, and mindful of their increasing size she gave them away one by one to the adoring children. Then there was only Samantha left with her, and the days trickled slowly past.

  Then, one morning, she looked at herself in the mirror as she was braiding her hair, really looked at herself, and was stunned at what she saw. Had she really allowed Nikolas Constantinos to turn her into this pale, fragile creature with huge, dark-circled eyes? What was wrong with her? She loved him, yes; in spite of everything he had said to her, she still loved him, but she wasn't so weak in spirit that she would let him destroy her!

  She began to realize that it solved nothing to hide away here in Cornwall. She wasn't getting over him; if anything, she was being eaten alive by the need to see him, to touch him.

  Suddenly her chin lifted as an idea came to her. She still loved him, she could not rid herself of that, but it was no longer the pure, innocent love that she had offered him the first time. Bitter fires had scorched her heart. For the burned remains of that sweetness, physical love might be enough. Perhaps in his arms she might find that all of her love had been burned out and she would be free. And if not—if she found that in spite of everything she continued to love him—in the years to come, when he was married to his pure, chaste little Elena, she would have the memories and knowledge of his passion, passion such as Elena would never know.

  Then she realized that when she became his mistress he would know that no other man had ever touched her. What would he think? Would he apologize, beg her forgiveness? The thought left her curiously unmoved, except for the bitterly humorous thought that the only way she could prove her virtue to him was by losing it. The situation was ironic, and she wondered if Nikolas would appreciate the humor of it when he knew.

  Without consciously admitting it, her mind was made up. She would accept Nikolas on his terms, give up her respectability and chastity for the physical gratification that he could give her. But she would not let him support her; she would keep her independence and her pride, and when he married his pure little Greek girl, she would walk away and never see him again. She would be his mistress, but she would not be a party to adultery.

  So she packed her clothing and closed up the cottage, put Samantha in the car and began the long drive back to London. The first thing she did was call Charles and tell him that she had returned, assuring him that she was fine. He had to go out of town that afternoon or he would have come over, and she was glad that their meeting was postponed. If Charles saw her now, so thin and wan, he would know that something was dreadfully wrong.

  That same problem worried her the next morning as she dressed. She couldn't get up the courage to call Nikolas; he might tell her that he was no lo