A Cloak of Lies Ch. 07

Niko jogged down the stairs feeling lighter than he had in days. He returned to the kitchen to make sure that he had everything ready for her. If he did this right, maybe he could talk to her, make her understand how he felt. It was a slim chance, but there was hope there.

***

Camille washed, taking a few minutes to comb the gnarls out of her hair. She had no idea why she was going to the trouble. The thought of eating anything made her stomach churn dangerously.

She returned to her room, removing the old housecoat, searching through the closet for something that might actually fit her. Allinson was a bit larger than she was and most of the clothing – what little there was – would fall off her thinning frame.

She finally settled on a blue sundress, using safety pins from a small box on top of the dresser to shorten the straps enough to stay up on her shoulders. Surveying the image that stared back in the mirror, she decided that this would have to do.

As she stepped into the hallway, she thought it was time to peek in on Olan. She knocked, entering when he answered to find him sitting on a chair in front of the open balcony door.

"You're looking much better," she murmured.

"And you look pretty as a picture. What's the occasion?"

Looking down at the worn cotton of the dress, she smoothed an imaginary wrinkle before glancing up again.

"Just didn't feel like wearing my old clothes anymore. Guess I'll have to see if Allinson's washer works and do some laundry for us."

"Nah. Make Niko do it," Olan chuckled.

"I should," she murmured. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah. He brought me up a plate of chicken about an hour ago. I hate to admit it, but the man knows how to fricassee. I hope you plan to eat something."

"I'm on my way down right now. He practically begged me to eat supper with him."

"Oh, he did, did he?" Olan said, his eyes twinkling merrily. "You'll get him housebroke, yet."

"Doubt it," she said, crossing the room to straighten the bed covers.

"You really got it bad."

"Excuse me?"

Camille straightened, turning to look at Olan's knowing expression.

"Don't play dumb with me, missy. You're in love with the big Greek, and you know it."

She sighed, dropping down to sit on the edge of the bed. With a flip of her hand, she tossed her hair back from her face, looking everywhere but at the man who seemed to be able to read her mind.

"I used to be," she said.

"You still are and it's time you did something about it. Don't get me wrong. He deserves all the punishment you dish out, but in the end, the two of you belong together."

"No," she hissed as her head shot up. "He made his choice a long time ago."

"Camille," Olan sighed. "He wasn't given much choice. Neither of us was. I was there and saw what he went through. It was like he was possessed, charging in, wreaking havoc on everything, all to get back home. Now that I see you, I can understand why.

"Honey, every time he thought he was done, they dumped something else on him. He was always good at what he did, the best there was. I think they just wanted to hang onto him. He fought them, too. Our guys, their guys, anyone that stood in his way was fair game.

"When word came down that you were in danger, he went berserk. He damn near beat Hansen to death when the man tried to stop him. The goons were shooting at him when he left the ranch, but he made it clean away. I knew exactly where to find him, knew he'd stop at nothing to get to you."

"He should've stayed away, Olan," she whispered. "He nearly killed me once. Now he's back to finish the job."

"Niko doesn't see it that way, Hon. Camille, he's lost without you. He wants peace. He believes he can find it in you."

"Peace? I hate to tell you this, Olan, but this running and being chased by men with guns is about the farthest thing from peace there is."

"I know, but it's the best he can do for now. One thing's for sure, he'll kill and die to protect you. He's a dumbass sometimes, but he'll get you someplace safe."

"If he doesn't get us all killed first."

"There's always that chance, I suppose," Olan said, turning his face back to the sunset. "But I've never seen a man who loved a woman as much as that one downstairs loves you. Just give the guy a little break, will ya?"

Excusing herself, Camille made her way barefoot down the stairs to the kitchen, thinking about what Niko's partner had said. Maybe she was being too hard on her husband.

Pushing the kitchen door open slowly, she found Niko standing expectantly near the table. He reminded her once again of the boy that he once was, waiting for approval for his efforts.

The table was draped in an old green cloth awash in the soft glow of candles. The plates and flatware had been carefully laid with napkins folded along side each. A pair of mismatched wine glasses were filled with golden wine and a platter of chicken was nestled between the candlesticks.

Camille couldn't help but be touched by the effort Niko had made. She offered a soft smile as she crossed the room. His eyes swept over the baggy dress, making her blush at the heat she saw there. He'd always had a way of looking at her that made her feel naked.

"You're gorgeous," he said as he gallantly held her chair for her.

"Thank you," she murmured, sitting slowly. "You did all this for me?"

"Of course."

"I... I don't know what to say...," she stammered, feeling a little embarrassed. "You went to a lot of trouble."

"You're worth it," he said, touching her arm before taking his own seat. "Tonight, let's just sit, eat and try to forget that we're mortal enemies, huh?"

His barb hit home, causing a stab in the region of her heart. Pushing back from the table, she started to rise, to run away to her room upstairs. He was on his feet, striding the two steps it took to get to her side. Crouching beside her chair, he took her hands in his, his eyes pleading.

"I'm sorry, Camille. I didn't mean that the way it came out."

"I've been making your life hell, haven't I?"

"No worse than what I did to you,Agapi. I wished for so much, and it's all gone now. Please, Camille. Eat. I'll leave the room, if you want me to, but you have to eat."

"Sit," she said softly. "Olan says you make a mean fricassee."

"It's not bad," he smiled gratefully, "if I do say so myself. I want you to stuff yourself. You've hardly eaten anything since we got here. You'll make yourself sick."

She was touched by his concern, watching as he filled her plate with more food than she could possibly eat in a week. As he set the food in front of her, the fragrance caused her stomach to rumble. Her mouth started to water. She was actually feeling hungry.

"It smells wonderful. What's in it?"

"I can't tell you. It's a secret."

Rolling her eyes, Camille took the first bite, letting the savory sauce work its magic over her tongue. She sighed, swallowing and spearing another morsel with her fork.

"This is really good, Niko. I don't remember you being this good a chef."

"Well, a man on his own has to learn to make do. I'm glad you like it."

She smiled around the next bite, washing it down with the wine.

"Riesling?" she said, relishing the aftertaste that was reminiscent of tart apples. "Interesting choice."

"Missouri is full of vineyards. Maybe one day we could tour a few of them..."

He stopped speaking, letting the words hang in the air between them as he turned his attention to his own plate. She caught the sadness in his eyes, just before he looked away, knew what he was thinking.

"Niko, please," she said, reaching across the table to touch his hand.

He pulled his hand back, sitting a little straighter as he looked at her.

"Don't worry, Camille. I told you I'd let you go and I meant it. I don't know why I said that about the vineyards. Just wishful thinking, I guess."

His face hardened, the pleasing smile gone from his handsome features. It was easy to see that his anger was only a mask to hide his disappointment. She sat back in her chair, gazing at him, wondering how to fix this.

"I'm not worried about that. I just hate to see you torture yourself."

"Don't worry about me," he nearly growled. "I'll get along just fine without you."

His words were designed to hurt, but she refused to take the bait.

"When you showed up that night, I thought I was looking at a ghost," she said softly. "I thought I was losing my mind. Then I realized it was you, really you, alive, and... I was so happy to see you. It felt like my heart was going to explode. I could touch you, smell you, feel you and you were really alive.

"Then I was mad. You have no idea the thoughts that went through my mind at that moment. After everything I'd been through, believing you dead and all... I wanted to tear you apart with my bare hands. I couldn't believe you would do that to me, let me think you were dead for so long.

"I didn't take into account anything about what might have taken you away or why you stayed away so long. All I could think about was how you let me go on without you all those years."

"I know all this, Camille. Is there any reason we have to keep going over it?"

She ignored his outburst, rising from her chair to take the one that was closer to him.

"I've been sitting up there in that room for the past several days trying to figure out what it was that I was so angry at. On the one hand, I have every right to want to tear your windpipe out..."

"Yeah. You've pointed that out enough."

"On the other hand," she continued, "I realize just why it is that you did what you did. Sugar, you have to understand. I know you did what you thought you had to, but you didn't think about me, about what I would've wanted.

"You never took my feelings into consideration. You got caught up in some macho need to protect me from whatever dangers you thought were out there, but you never thought about what I was going through without you.

"My God, Niko. I fought the entire world on my own. No one would help me. Every time I tried to find out something about what happened to you, another wall was thrown up in my face. My dad tried to help and it killed him. I was alone, broken."

"I was wrong," he stated flatly. "Is that what you wanted me to say? Well, I admit it. I was wrong."

"You're missing the point. You never gave me a choice. I know you said you didn't have a choice either, but you could've taken me with you. I'd've followed you anywhere. If I had to live on the run with you or move to some foreign country, it wouldn't have mattered, as long as we were together. You were my whole world and you took it from me without once thinking how it would effect me."

He took her hand, running his thumb over the scar on her wrist.

"You're wrong,Agapi Mou. I worried about you every day, worried about what you were going through. I swear by the Virgin that I thought it would only be a few weeks. But the weeks stretch to months and years. Getting back to you was the only thing that kept me going.

"You're right about one thing, though. I should never have let those bastards keep us apart. If I'd known it would take me this long to find my way back..."

His voice trailed off, his gaze moving to where his thumb stroked the puckered skin on her wrist. The heat of his body, so near hers, coupled with the scent of his skin. It was a heady combination. Every nerve in her body seemed to concentrate on the place where his fingers touched her.

"Niko, we can't go back to what we once had."

"Do you love him, Camille?"

His question caught her off guard. She looked up to find him searching her face, looking for something. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm her body, but couldn't quite manage to pull away from him.

"Niko..."

"I'd like to know. I want you to be happy. Do you love him?"

"He's a good man. When I'm with him, I'm safe. He takes good care of me and loves me."

"You didn't answer the question. Do you love him?"

She opened her eyes, lost in the black opal of his gaze. The blood in her veins throbbed with the heat he was stirring with his simple caress. She seemed to be leaning closer to him, unable to stop the need to touch him.

"Hmm? Love...? I just told you..."

"No. You told me how he feels about you. You didn't say how you feel about him."

Sighing, she tore her gaze from his lips, trying to focus on the words that had been spoken by them.

"I... I don't want to hurt you, Niko. Can't we just change the subject?"

"I need to know,Agapi," he whispered, his thumb strumming higher up along her wrist. "It's important to me. I want you to be happy, baby."

She closed her eyes again, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I'm sorry, Niko. Please believe me. None of this was meant to hurt you. I never stopped loving you, but it's over."

"Who are you trying to convince? Me? Or you?"

Her eyelids flew up. He was leaning closer, his face only inches from hers. His warm breath fanned the fine hairs of her skin with each breath he exhaled.

"I don't know any more," she admitted, reaching up to touch his face. "I missed you so... I used to dream of a moment like this."

He was suddenly on his feet, pulling her up with him and into his arms. His mouth found hers in a long, searching kiss that threatened to buckle her knees. When he came up for air, he stroked the hair from her face with the palm of his hand. The way he looked at her, it was as if he expected her to refuse him. He seemed to be waiting for the final blow.

Winding her arms about his neck, she pulled his head down again, kissed him in answer. Camille only knew the need that went beyond carnal desire. It was a need to fill the emptiness that had been in her soul since the day he'd disappeared all those years ago.

She felt her body being lifted, heard the sound of his shoe kicking the door to the front room open as he carried her from the kitchen. The cushions of the couch pressed into her back as he laid her down and joined her. One of his big hands stroked slowly down her body, past the curve of her hip. His fingers gripped her thigh, pulling her leg up to wrap around him.

"Thee mou. Eisai toso omorfi gynaika."

"Honey," she giggled. "You know I don't speak Greek."

"My God, Camille," he murmured, gazing at her face. "You're so beautiful. Aphrodite would die of envy."

"Shut up and make love to me, you stupid Greek," she moaned, pressing her body into his.

"I've never been one to deny the whims of a goddess," he growled.

His hand slipped under the dress, slowly caressing his way up her leg, over her hip to her waist. His mouth assailed her from the top, working its way down over her throat to the area where the strap of her dress lay. As he tried to work the strap down with his teeth, he lost his balance, toppling off the edge of the narrow sofa to land on the floor, smacking his arm on the coffee table.

Camille fell with him, landing astride his waist. With a mighty shove, Niko sent the coffee table skittering across the floor with a loud crash. She laughed aloud, reaching down to snag the hem of her dress and drag it over her head.

Upstairs, a dozing Olan was awakened by the sound of upset furniture and the bawdy laughter of the two lovers. He smiled, closing his eyes again. It looked as if things were starting to get interesting.

Hundreds of miles away, another man smiled, but not out of amusement. He was holding a telephone to his ear, listening to what he'd been waiting to hear. Finally, he spoke slowly, his words precise and clipped.

"Comb that forest until you find them. I want the Greek brought to me alive. I wish to deal with him myself."

He carefully replaced the receiver in the cradle, his cold smile becoming decidedly more malicious. The man had led him a merry chase and it was time for him to pay the piper. There would be no more mistakes.

He sat back as his butler entered, bringing his tea. It was the only thing the British had given the world that was worth anything, the ceremony of afternoon tea. But none of that would matter, once he had the threat to his future neutralized; not the Brits, the Americans or any other country would dare defy him. The world would be his for the taking.