Mirrors of the Sea Page 6

  Titus gave a short, derisive laugh. 'I don't run away from my commitments.'

  Alys looked at him for a long moment, knowing that to go on with this conversation would only make things worse. Picking up her bag, she swung it on her shoulder. "Thanks for the drink, Titus—it was some reunion.' And she turned to stride back along the waterfront.

  He didn't follow immediately but then she heard his step some way behind her, a step she had learnt and listened for so often when they were together, running to meet him, longing to be held close to him again after even the shortest absences. Now her stride lengthened in her hurry to get away.

  Two young men, obviously Greeks, were in her path. Alys went to move round them but they moved in the same direction, bringing her to a halt. 'You drink with me and him?' The English was terrible but it hardly mattered—the eyes that coveted her body and the hand that reached out to touch her hair said it all. She jerked away, her hair a live halo, swirling around her head. Titus's step quickened and he came up to them. He put a hand on her shoulder and made a very primitive gesture with the other. Possession and threat. The two young Greeks looked at the purpose in his face and the strength in his shoulders and melted away into the night.

  Alys didn't thank him, didn't even look at him, just moved out of his hold and continued on towards the ship. But this time Titus kept pace with her so that they were together as they walked along the mole where the . ship was moored, a great many of the passengers still on the deck. And it was his hand that went under her elbow to help her on to the gangplank.

  But once on board Alys made her way to the nearest ladies' room and stayed there for some time, bathing her hot temples and her wrists, trying to still her raging thoughts, trying to stop her hands shaking. The ship's siren sounded to warn the last passengers that they were about to sail. Alys took a long look at herself in the mirror, wondering how the hell she was going to survive this trip. Two women came in, friends, chattering and laughing. Drying her hands, Alys left the cloakroom and went out on to the deck. Most of the passengers were out there, in the bow, watching as the ship prepared to sail, but Alys turned and went to the steps leading up to the sundeck.

  It was empty; the elderly didn't climb steep stairs unless they had to. Leaning against the rail, Alys watched as the ship backed slowly out of the harbour, unable to turn in the narrow confines. The lights on the waterfront gradually diminished, the spicy scent of the land giving way to the saltiness of the sea. They had invaded the intensely insular life of the island for a few hours, been welcomed for the money they might spend, and were already forever forgotten. Just another ship. Just another load of tourists. But Alys thought that she would never forget the little island that had emerged out of the darkness and that was now melting back into it again. The ship gave one last, farewell blast on the siren, then turned in a great arc and sailed on, only the waves of its wake rippling back towards the shore.

  Alys stirred, having come to a decision of her own. When she had left Titus it had been on a tide of intense emotion. She hadn't thought about it, just acted impulsively ‑No, not just on impulse; she had felt driven to go. It had all seemed so unfair, so terribly unfair. And after she'd left everything had been too raw and hurting to dwell on, to go back over time and time again—one moment to think that it had all been her fault, the next to be sure that the ménage a trois that Titus wanted was intolerable. So she had tried to push it all out of her mind, afraid that ‑Her thoughts came to a dizzying halt. Afraid. Titus had called her a coward—and so had her aunt. Maybe they were right. It was true that she had never really faced up to her feelings after she'd left, never gone back over the events that had led to her desperate decision to leave him. But maybe now was the time. If she was to find the courage to go on with this charade of a holiday, then maybe she had first better find the courage to go back and be sure that she had been right to leave the man she loved so much.

  Feeling suddenly chill, Alys went quickly down to the cabin. Aunt Lou was sitting up in bed, reading. With a muttered apology, Alys hurried to use the bathroom and change into pyjamas. She climbed into bed and glanced across at the older woman. 'Do we have to get up early tomorrow?'

  'No, we have the morning at sea, and the first lecture isn't until nine. So we'll set the alarm for seven forty-five, shall we?'

  'That sounds fine.'

  Aunt Lou picked up the alarm clock. 'Did you buy anything in Hydra after I left?'

  'No, I had a drink in a cafe.'

  'That must have been pleasant.'

  'Not really. Titus came along.'

  Looking over her glasses, Aunt Lou said, 'Oh. I see.' She turned off the light. 'Goodnight, my dear.'

  'Goodnight.'

  Alys lay in the darkness, listening to the faintly comforting sounds of the ship's engines, a monotonous noise that last night had sent her to sleep. But tonight she didn't want to sleep. She tried to force her mind back to the years she'd been with Titus, but it kept shying away. Afraid, always afraid. There was only one way, she realised, and said softly into the darkness, 'Aunt Lou, are you asleep?'

  'No.' Her aunt immediately understood. 'Only tell me if you're sure you want to.'

  Alys sighed deeply. 'I wanted to forget, not try to remember. But now...' She was silent for a moment, trying to conquer her fears.

  Reaching out, Aunt Lou took her hand in hers, warm and reassuring. 'I'm listening, my dear.'

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It had begun with such golden brilliance, like some dazzlingly bright miracle, filling Alys's eyes with radiant happiness, her heart with love. She had been blindingly happy, unable to see anything but the fulfilment of her dreams. But even though they'd both known from the first moment that they were meant for each other, they hadn't rushed things. The opposite almost. They'd known they had all the time in the world, and wanted to savour every moment.

  After their meeting on the ferry the two groups had joined and they'd eventually spent the rest of the Easter holiday together on the fells of the Lake District. Sometimes they'd all walked on the lower slopes, on the other days the men had given the girls climbing lessons, and once, at Titus's suggestion, they had all split up and done their own thing.

  Alys especially remembered that day. It was the first time that Titus really kissed her. Alone at last, they walked from the hostel where they were staying up into the hills. It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny, the sky a cloudless blue. Birds wheeled and called, their wings translucent in the sunlight. The fields were purple with heather that gave off a heady scent as they brushed it with their feet. They came to the crest of a hill and tacitly stopped, awestruck by the beauty of the view.

  Alys let her eyes pan slowly over the scene before her, registering each detail, like a camera, wanting to hold it in her mind forever.

  'What are you thinking?' Titus murmured beside her, his arm going round her waist.

  'That I want to remember this view, this moment, always.'

  He smiled. 'Then I'd better give you something to remember it by.'

  Titus drew her slowly to him, his eyes holding hers, darkening with desire. She was already trembling with anticipation even before he lowered his head to find her lips, touching them gently, with exquisite tenderness, like a mortal allowed to sip the nectar of the gods. For quite a while they were content just to touch, to gently explore the other's mouth with tiny, almost tentative kisses, but then Titus ran the tip of his tongue against her lips, probed a little so that Alys slowly opened her mouth to him, like a flower opening its petals. A great tremor of desire ran through him and Titus held her closer against him. His awakening need lit a torch deep inside her own body and Alys moved her hips against his in yearning arousal, a movement as primitive and old as time.

  Suddenly everything changed. Titus gave a gasping groan and his hand went low on her hips, holding her tight against him so that she was in no doubt of how much he wanted her. His lips became opportune, demanding and getting the response he sought.

 
'Titus. Titus.' She moaned his name against his lips as the world began to spin and she was lost to everything but the need to satisfy this terrible, greedy need to be held and kissed and loved. The torch of desire burst into a burning hunger that consumed her whole body, into a flame of passion that would never die.

  His fingers gripped her so tightly that they bruised her skin, but she didn't feel it; her hands were on his head, in his hair, holding his mouth against her own, drowning in his kisses. But then Titus broke away, holding her by the length of his arms, his hands gripping her shoulders. His breath was uneven, panting, his mouth parted, and she could feel the wild beating of his heart. But it was his eyes that held her. They were so full of triumphant happiness, like a man who had found his long-sought-for grail and claimed it for his own. Suddenly he dropped his hands to her waist and lifted her high off the ground, then swung her round in giddy circles. 'I love you!' he shouted. 'I love you, Alys.'

  And the hills that surrounded them took up his cry, echoing one off another, until the air was full of its mad peal. And for miles around they heard his avowal. 'I love you. I love you, Alys.'

  She cried a little then, from happiness, and he kissed her tears away. 'I don't deserve this.'

  But Titus laughed at her. 'You deserve everything you're going to get.' A suggestive remark that made her blush crimson and showed her up for the inexperienced girl that she was, but also filled her with an even greater excitement and anticipation.

  She thought that Titus might take her there and then, in those heather-clad hills, but it was several weeks before they eventually made love. And he made that perfect, too, taking her with him in the summer to his beloved Egypt, to a small house far from the nearest town. There was a fountain in the courtyard, its tinkling music the accompaniment to that first long night of love. A perfect night. A perfect week, in which they were completely alone and Alys found that it was impossible to be satiated by love. She wanted to be not only close to Titus, but a part of him. She found that he was far more experienced than she, but that he delighted in teaching her, in arousing her to the heights of awareness, and in guiding her so that he, too, was lifted to the groaning peak of excitement and passion.

  But there were interludes when they were content just to be together, to be close enough to see, to touch, to hear. After that first week, Titus had to work, and he took her with him to the dig whose progress he had come to report on, taking her into dark and hushed tombs, reading the hieroglyphics on the walls by the light of his torch, showing her the artefacts they'd found, his arm lightly but possessively round her waist as he talked. Then perhaps they would join his colleagues, both British and Egyptian, at a restaurant for dinner, watch the belly-dancers with their whirling skirts, and hold hands under the table, knowing that in a few hours they would be in each other's arms again, each worshipping the other's body with their own.

  And there were moments that were forever scorched into her memory, such as when the shower failed and Titus washed her with his bare hands, both of them unclothed, kissing her as he did so, his eyes ever darkening, until neither of them were able to stand it any longer and he pulled her down on to his lap.

  When they went back to England Alys switched to a course on Egyptology at his university and they found a small Edwardian house, moving in together. Alys had thought he would find a flat, because despite being a college lecturer he didn't seem to have a great deal of money, but Titus said he didn't want any neighbours around because he intended to make love to her in every room. She laughed at him and fell ever deeper in love, aware of the contentment and supreme self-confidence that happiness had given him. He seemed somehow to have gained in stature, both mentally and physically, standing proud before the world.

  They didn't actually speak of marriage. It was unnecessary really; they both knew that in the fullness of time they would marry and have children. But there was plenty of time, oceans of time. Alys had to get her degree and then work for a doctorate. Titus had papers to write, digs to go on, endless opportunities for advancement. But the first Christmas they were together he gave her a ring, made from an ancient Egyptian scarab, and put it on the third finger of her left hand.

  'My love for the past and my love for the future,' he said softly.

  They were alone in their house, sitting on the floor in front of the fire, its dancing light the only illumination in the room, a place where they had often made love. 'Oh, Titus, I love you so much,' Alys sighed. Reaching up, she put her hands on either side of his face to kiss him, but a swirl of wind came down the chimney, sending the flames spitting and flaring, and she felt a great sense of dread and desolation, made all the worse by its suddenness. With a whimper of fear Alys flung her arms round him, hugging him to her. 'Don't ever leave me, Titus. Swear you'll never leave me.' . He began to laugh, but then, seeing her terror, he put his arms round her in a great bear-hug, reassuring her with his closeness as well as words. 'You know I'll never leave you. I love you more than life.' And gradually her fears dimmed and she let him make her laugh, but she always remembered that first portent of dread.

  For those first two years they were ecstatically happy. Alys got her degree and, that milestone in her life achieved, began to think of her future. She would take her doctorate, of course, but now her thoughts began to turn towards marriage. It was obvious that her parents, who had met and liked Titus, wanted them to legalise their relationship. Not that they said anything; it was their ever-tactful avoidance of the subject that made their feelings clear. Whenever they went to stay at her home, her mother gave them separate rooms, which always added spice to their relationship, because they were both as frustrated as hell.

  'If I don't get you into bed soon I shall go blind,' Titus had whispered urgently into her ear once, making Alys burst out laughing.

  She smiled, remembering it later, and realised she was ready for marriage. She liked the idea of being openly acknowledged as Titus's wife, instead of his girlfriend. She liked the idea of being called Mrs Irvine, with all that it implied. And she liked the idea of committing herself to Titus forever, and wanted the world to see that he had committed himself to her.

  There was another factor, too, that had led her thoughts towards marriage. Theirs hadn't been the only romance that had grown out of the meeting on the ferry. Two of their friends had fallen for each other and had got married in a rush when the man had been offered a post in Australia. Now they wrote that they were expecting their first child. The feeling of envy that this news aroused startled Alys. I must be getting broody, she thought. And why not? She was nearly twenty-three years old and in love for keeps. They could get married and if a baby came along she could still study for her doctorate. Lots of other women did. In her imagination she could see them setting off for a dig somewhere, the child slung in a carrier on Titus's back.

  She made tentative noises about marriage and, if anything, Titus seemed pleased. But there was, as always, no great rush. Spring would be nice, she thought, and she wanted a big wedding, one where she could show off Titus to all her friends and relations. She was so proud of him, so in love. But when she got home from college one evening she found a note from Titus saying that he'd had to go away for a couple of days; he didn't know when he would be back. And he left no telephone number or address where he could be contacted. So she waited at home in growing anxiety and bewilderment; he had never done anything like this before. He rang on the first evening, but just said that he'd had to go and see an old college friend. He sounded strained and was unforthcoming, avoiding her questions, so that she became curious and a little annoyed.

  The following two days, before he returned, seemed agonisingly long; they had never been apart for so long since they'd started living together. Titus rang again, but still wouldn't tell her what it was all about, which made her angry. In Alys's view, if you loved someone then you were completely open with each other, all the time, about everything. Love didn't have secrets. OK, maybe they had never actually discussed the subjec
t, but it had never seemed to be necessary. She had always been open with Titus and she took it for granted that he had been the same with her. When Titus came home he strode into the house, grabbed her, and hugged her fiercely, telling her how much he loved and had missed her.

  Immediately disarmed, Alys forgot to be angry and said coquettishly, 'How much did you miss me?'

  Titus grinned, 'Enough to carry you up to bed and make love to you right now.'

  She pouted, her hands going to his belt. 'You can't have missed me enough, then, if you can wait that long.'

  His eyes glinting, Titus said, 'Now that, you wanton hussy, is a definite challenge.' And he went to grab her.

  Alys gave a shriek of excited fear and turned to run but he caught her and began to pull off her clothes as she tried to struggle up the stairs. They got as far as the half-landing before she lay naked below him, trapped by his arm as he tore off the last of his own clothes. For a moment he grinned down at her, both of them enjoying to the full this moment of pre-sexual anticipation, their bodies hot with desire. Letting his hand wander caressingly over her breast, Titus said thickly, 'If you throw out a challenge you must be ready to take the consequences.'

  Alys smiled, and let her own hand do some exploring. 'I am ready. And—oh! I think you are, too.'

  It was over quickly, too quickly; they had both been too excited and eager for any finesse. Titus gave a great sigh of contentment as he rolled off her, then laughed as he saw where they were. 'I think this is a first.'

  'Mmm.' Alys sat up, only now aware of the hardness of the floor. 'How did we finish up here?'

  Looking up at her dishevelled mane of golden hair, its length reaching to curl almost caressingly on the whiteness of her firm, rose-tipped breasts, Titus said, his voice again thickening, 'Who said anything about finishing?'