Nick ordered Cosmos to head straight for Crete, catching the most provocative winds he could. The sooner Honey was off his boat for good, the better.
He hadn’t slept. Although initially stung by her callousness, he knew before the morning sun peeped over the horizon that it probably had been a ruse to throw him off.
After what they had shared, it was impossible for him to believe she didn’t care for him.
He had examined and analyzed her words, over and over and over again, all night long. One logical solution had risen above all others.
Honey was one of the most honest and honorable women he’d ever met. She couldn’t afford to marry a poor man and had freely admitted to him that she needed the Christophides’ wealth to get her father out of debt.
But once she had learned that Nick, too, had money, she couldn’t accept his proposal without appearing deceitful and shallow, even if she cared for him. Honey was neither deceitful nor shallow, and for her to push aside her promise to Apollo in favor of Nick would have made her appear to be both.
They sailed hard through the day, arriving within miles of Crete by late afternoon.
Honey hated it on sight. In her eyes it looked big and ugly. She stood at the railing, her heart in her throat. Nick appeared beside her.
“You’re making a mistake.”
She shot him a quick glance, and then realized her blunder. Once again, he hadn’t shaved; his dark stubble made him appear more handsome than ever. The wind tossed his black curls across his forehead. His dark eyes burned into hers.
Her heart raced at the sight of him. God, how would she live without him?
She forced herself to look away. “I don’t agree.”
Her gaze roamed the pier just as a carriage stopped. Two people, a man and an older woman, stepped out. Honey’s heart plummeted. She knew instinctively that this was her husband-to-be and her future mother-in-law.
Apollo Christophides was not necessarily a short man, but Honey knew that if he stood next to Nick he would appear to be. Her betrothed removed his hat and sweat glistened off his balding head. His mustache, large and droopy and typical for Cretan men, was black as tar. As he drew closer, it was evident that he had one continuous eyebrow growing over his eyes.
Honey felt sick with dread.
Marching beside her son was Honey’s future mother-in-law. Tall, straight and imposing, she strode down the pier, dressed from head to foot in black. She carried a cane, but appeared to have no limp. Honey had the oddest feeling it was used as a weapon.
When the woman jabbed Cosmos as he leapt from the Athena onto the pier, Honey knew she was right.
“Herete,” Nick said, his voice quiet beside her.
Be happy. Somehow Honey doubted that she would. Drawing in a deep breath, she marched off the Athena, away from the man she loved with her whole heart, and into a life she was already beginning to regret.
Her initial regret became permanent.
“Honey? Not a real name.” Mrs. Christophides had the deep, compelling voice of a woman accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed. And her English was surprisingly good.
Honey and Effie sat in the carriage seat across from Apollo and his mother. “It’s English; I was named after one of my mother’s aunts.”
Apollo leaned toward her. “I think it’s a lovely name.”
Honey studied him. He had kind eyes, unlike his mother’s sharp ones. And he had a pleasant face, perhaps because his demeanor seemed docile and accepting, also unlike his mother.
“Your father won’t be joining us?” he added.
Honey shook her head. “I’m afraid he had a very important appointment on Patmos.”
The severe woman nodded. “Studying St. John, am I correct?”
“Yes.” And Honey thanked the good Lord he was. Until she could sort out what was going to happen, and until she could understand this stern, severe woman and her compliant son, she didn’t want her father to realize what a mistake they all had made. What was done was done. Amen.
“Do you speak any Greek?” the woman asked.
Her gaze was penetrating, and Honey glanced at her lap to avoid it. “I’ve been studying it. I fear my Greek will never be as excellent as your English.”
“The marriage will take place next week,” the woman announced.
Honey’s stomach pitched and the nausea that she’d been experiencing lately intensified. “Of course.”
“I have wanted my son to marry an Englishwoman. You might find that odd.”
“I guess I expected that most Greek men prefer Greek women,” Honey said.
“My grandfather was an English soldier who came to Greece when the Greeks were struggling against the Ottomans. He married my grandmother, who was Greek. My parents were both Greek. I want my son to marry an Englishwoman.”
Honey thought the woman’s logic a bit strange, but she said nothing. Effie cleared her throat beside her, as if ready to speak, but Honey poked her in the ribs.
She glanced at Apollo, whose eyes told her he understood her confusion, but he merely smiled at her.
He was not a handsome man, not by a long shot. But somehow she felt she was going to like him.
But even with that bit of hope, Honey’s stomach continued to pitch and toss.
“There’s much to prepare for,” Mrs. Christophides announced. “The first thing we must do is verify your virginal status.”