Obligation To Love. Catherine O'Connor

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      ‘If this lady wishes to become your bride, I suggest that you teach her some manners.’ Andros spoke coldly, directing his criticism at Dimitri while viewing Melissa with icy disdain. ‘I shall telephone your sister and make arrange-ments for her to join us.’

      He watched them as they walked away, their arms entwined and their heads close together. He looked down at the slim grey card Melissa had passed him and studied it with care. The address was that of a quite fashionable gallery in the Knightsbridge area of London and, despite himself, Andros was impressed. He went to the phone and dialled the number carefully, and listened as an efficient voice answered.

      ‘Good afternoon, Longshaw’s Gallery. Hayley Swift speaking.’

      Andros allowed himself a flicker of a smile at her officious tone and couldn’t help but compare her to Melissa, as he had automatically imagined a waif of a girl.

      ‘Miss Swift, my name is Andros Christos.’ He paused, allowing the impact of his name to penetrate. His wealth had made him known throughout the world and his interest in collecting art was well known. Any gallery who received a call from him would immediately respond.

      Hayley remained silent for a moment, her mind snapping to attention. Melissa! she thought instinctively, an icy dread suddenly surrounding her. She recalled the frantic letter she had received yesterday from her sister. Melissa, as usual, was begging for her help, and normally Hayley would have responded without question. But this time she had her own doubts; surely Melissa was not ready for marriage? In so many ways she was still so young. Hayley’s frown deepened, clouding her clear blue eyes. It was about time Melissa took responsibility for herself. Surely this time it was a matter between her and her future husband’s family, and could not possibly involve Hayley? Yet, as always, Melissa had turned to Hayley for help and, despite all Hayley’s resolutions not to get involved, she found herself weakening. The desperate plea in her sister’s letter was suddenly etched on Hayley’s mind, and the sound of the man on the phone who was responsible for her sister’s unhappiness made her blood boil! Mr Christos disapproved and without his consent the marriage would not be allowed. Hayley wasn’t sure whether or not he disapproved of the marriage, or just of Melissa—either way, there was something in his approach that rankled with her, an assurance and authority in his tone that almost demanded that his word be law.

      Hayley swallowed, determined to remain calm and feign ignorance; she would pretend she knew nothing of his disapproval and the way in which he so arrogantly dismissed her sister. Hayley had a pretty clear image of him: Melissa had described the old man in vivid and graphic detail and, even allowing for her sister’s neutral inclination to exaggerate, Hayley knew exactly the type of man she was dealing with: a proud, overbearing patriarch, who was de-termined not to allow his family to be tainted with English blood.

      ‘Yes, Mr Christos, how can I help you?’ She heard the sudden intake of breath and gave a small smile of satisfaction. The man obviously ruled his family with a rod of iron, caring little for their feelings. But his tactics will not work on me, she thought, enraged by his attitude to her younger sister. Unlike everyone else, she had no need to jump to attention for him; he had no power over her.

      ‘Your sister, Melissa, is staying with our family at the moment and I should like you to join us. There is much to discuss,’ he answered her with a cold detachment. He could sense her disapproval of him; too liberated to know her place, he acknowledged to himself, as he imagined a frumpy older sister, too absorbed in her career to think of marriage, yet determined her sister should marry well.

      ‘Yes, indeed there is,’ gushed Hayley, her eyes sparkling with devilment. ‘Wedding receptions take forever to organise,’ she goaded him wickedly, her voice light and full of springtime. She understood exactly how he felt but she was going to force him to pretend otherwise. He had no intention of discussing anything. Melissa had already explained at length in her letter what a despot he was. Yet surely he would have enough good manners not to raise his dissent over the telephone? But Hayley had then to admit she was wrong, she had misjudged him. The man was so full of his own importance, he obviously did not feel the need for common courtesy!

      ‘You misunderstand, Miss Swift,’ Andros countered firmly, a razor edge to his heavily accented English. ‘There will be no wedding,’ he said quietly, the softness in his voice underlying his authority. He gripped the telephone till his knuckles were white. Her attitude displeased him, arousing far too many memories. His anger increased still further as he suddenly realised that she was not going to be the ally he had assumed she would be.

      ‘Why?’ demanded Hayley. ‘Has something terrible happened?’ She asked this, deliberately, adding a note of anxiety to her voice. She was delighted when he immediately responded to allay any fears. Perhaps he was not quite the old ogre he pretended to be when he so quickly reassured her.

      ‘No, nothing has happened,’ he said calmly. ‘It is simply that this marriage cannot be allowed.’ His voice held a ring of finality that warned her not to disagree. ‘You must see that?’ he queried, implying she should automatically acquiesce.

      Hayley stiffened angrily and bit hard into her bottom lip. His attitude was unbearable and she knew that she couldn’t possibly abandon Melissa. Poor Melissa was far too gentle to stand up to this type of male dominance. Hayley knew it was up to her. How dared he find her sister not suitable? The arrogance of the man! She tried to keep the anger from her voice. Her heart hammered with merciless force against her ribcage as she struggled with her increasing temper.

      ‘I’m sorry, Mr Christos,’ she began, her tone heavy with sarcasm, ‘but I fail to see why the marriage cannot go ahead.’ She stopped abruptly, her usual composure beginning to fade. Again a mental image of the arrogant old patriarch—stubborn and set in his traditional ways—flashed in front of her.

      Andros glared at the telephone in disbelief—no one had ever dared to speak to him like this, and certainly not a woman! He was stunned into silence, his jaw clenched in anger, and an angry nerve throbbed at his temple.

      ‘The marriage will not go ahead because I have forbidden it,’ he stated simply, as if speaking to a child. And any further discussion was pointless: his reply stunned Hayley momentarily, and she was unable to answer. She thought quickly and tried to defuse the situation; she wanted to help Melissa, not hinder her, so she began to laugh. Hayley’s laughter trickled down the phone, bright, light and completely spontaneous.

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she managed to splutter. ‘If two fully mature adults wish to marry, they will,’ she retorted, unable to comprehend the man’s attitude. Now Andros was silent, a building fury seeping through his being, a blazing contempt fuelling his temper at the amusement he was causing her.

      ‘Miss Swift!’ His voice was sharp, clear and fully in command. Hayley felt her laughter die on lips that had suddenly become dry at his austere tone. The silence that followed seemed to hang between them, vibrating down the line as if a battle of wills was being fought.

      ‘I fail to understand your humour,’ Andros drawled. ‘I am serious. I forbid this marriage. Come and take your sister home.’

      ‘Take her home?’ echoed Hayley, recovering quickly. ‘I cannot do that! She’s an adult, mature enough to make her own decisions.’

      ‘I do not consider your sister to be mature,’ he retorted coldly, the edge in his words alerting Hayley to his displeasure, and she felt a moment of guilt. It must be hard for such an old man to cope with the modern world. She nodded understandingly at the phone, determined to appease him but remain equally firm.

      ‘Oh, she is young, admittedly, but—’

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