Aphrodite's Tears Read online

  Praise for Hannah Fielding’s first novel, Burning Embers:

  ‘An epic romance like Hollywood used to make …’

  Peterborough Evening Telegraph

  ‘Burning Embers is a romantic delight and an absolute must-read for anyone looking to escape to a world of colour, beauty, passion and love … For those who can’t go to Kenya in reality, this has got to be the next best thing.’

  Amazon.co.uk review

  ‘A good-old fashioned love story … A heroine who’s young, naive and has a lot to learn. A hero who’s alpha and hot, has a past and a string of women. A different time, world, and class. The kind of romance that involves picnics in abandoned valleys and hot-air balloon rides and swimming in isolated lakes. Heavenly.’

  Amazon.co.uk review

  ‘The story hooked me from the start. I want to be Coral, living in a more innocent time in a beautiful, hot location, falling for a rich, attractive, broody man. Can’t wait for Hannah Fielding’s next book.’

  Amazon.co.uk review

  Praise for The Echoes of Love (winner of the Gold Medal for Romance at the 2014 Independent Publisher Book Awards):

  ‘One of the most romantic works of fiction ever written … an epic love story beautifully told.’

  The Sun

  ‘Fans of romance will devour it in one sitting.’

  The Lady

  ‘All the elements of a rollicking good piece of indulgent romantic fiction.’

  BM Magazine

  ‘This book will make you wish you lived in Italy.’

  Fabulous magazine

  ‘The book is the perfect read for anyone with a passion for love, life and travel.’

  Love it! magazine

  ‘Romance and suspense, with a heavy dose of Italian culture.’

  Press Association

  ‘A plot-twisting story of drama, love and tragedy.’

  Italia! magazine

  ‘There are many beautifully crafted passages, in particular those relating to the scenery and architecture of Tuscany and Venice … It was easy to visualise oneself in these magical locations.’

  Julian Froment blog

  ‘Fielding encapsulates the overwhelming experience of falling deeply, completely, utterly in love, beautifully.’

  Books with Bunny

  Praise for Indiscretion (winner of Gold Medal for romance at the IBPA Benjamin Franklin Awards and Best Romance at the USA Best Book Awards):

  ‘A captivating tale of love, jealousy and scandal.’

  The Lady

  ‘Indiscretion grips from the first. Alexandra is a beguiling heroine, and Salvador a compelling, charismatic hero … the shimmering attraction between them is always as taut as a thread. A powerful and romantic story, one to savour and enjoy.’

  Lindsay Townsend - historical romance author

  ‘Rich description, a beautiful setting, wonderful detail, passionate romance and that timeless, classic feel that provides sheer, indulgent escapism. Bliss!’

  Amazon.co.uk review

  ‘I thought Ms. Fielding had outdone herself with her second novel but she’s done it again with this third one. The love story took my breath away … I could hardly swallow until I reached the end.’

  Amazon.com review

  Praise for Masquerade (winner of Silver Medal for romance at the IBPA Benjamin Franklin Awards):

  ‘Secrets and surprises … Set in Spain in the 1970s, you’ll be enveloped in this atmospheric story of love and deception.’

  My Weekly

  ‘Hannah Fielding writes of love, sexual tension and longing with an amazing delicacy and lushness, almost luxury. Suffused with the legends and lore of the gypsies and the beliefs of Spain, there is so much in this novel. Horse fairs, sensual dreams, bull running, bull fighters, moonlight swims, the heat and flowers and colours and costumes of the country. A superb read.’

  Amazon.co.uk review

  ‘This was honestly one of the most aesthetically pleasing and sensual books I’ve read in a long time.’

  Amazon.co.uk review

  ‘Masquerade contains the kind of romance that makes your heart beat faster and your knees tremble. This was a mesmerising and drama-filled read that left me with a dreamy feeling.’

  Amazon.co.uk review

  ‘This engrossing, gorgeous romantic tale was one of my favorite reads in recent memory. This book had intrigue, mystery, revenge, passion and tantalizing love scenes that held captive the reader and didn’t allow a moment’s rest through all of the twists and turns … wonderful from start to finish.’

  Goodreads.com review

  ‘When I started reading Masquerade I was soon completely pulled into the romantic and poetic way Hannah Fielding writes her stories. I honestly couldn’t put Masquerade down. Her books are beautiful and just so romantic, you’ll never want them to end!’

  Goodreads.com review

  Praise for Legacy (final book in the Andalucían Nights Trilogy):

  ‘Legacy is filled to the brim with family scandal, frustrated love and hidden secrets. Fast-paced and addictive, it will keep you hooked from start to finish.’

  The Lady

  ‘Beautifully written, and oozing romance and intrigue, Legacy is the much anticipated new novel from award-winning author Hannah Fielding that brings to life the allure of a summer in Cádiz.’

  Take a Break

  ‘In the vein of Gone With The Wind, this particular book is just as epic and timeless. Written with lively detail, you are IN Spain. You are engulfed in the sights, sounds and smells of this beautiful country. Great characters … and a plot with just enough twists to keep it moving along … Start with book one and each one gets better and better. I applaud Ms. Fielding’s story telling skills.’

  Amazon.com review

  ‘Flawless writing and impeccable character building. Legacy takes the readers on a journey through the passions and desires that are aroused from romantic Spanish culture.’

  Goodreads.com review

  APHRODITE’S TEARS

  HANNAH FIELDING

  To my loving son, Christian, whose knowledge of ancient Greek and love of mythology was the wind beneath my wings in the writing of this book, such was his support and encouragement.

  …There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible — magic to make the sanest man go mad.

  Homer, The Iliad

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Author Note

  A Letter from Hannah

  Q and A with Hannah Fielding

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Also by Hannah Fielding

  PROLOGUE

  Kent, England, April 1977

  ‘Urgently wanted: experienced archaeologist to supervise licenced subsea exploration around a small, private Ionian island. Candidates to show impeccable academic credentials and experience of underwater archaeology. Apply to: The Administration, PO Box 7520, Athens, Greece,’ read the newspaper advertisement. Strangely, it carried no more details than that, although there was a phrase in bold letters at the end: ‘Do not waste your time or ours if you are not qualified for this job.’ It had certainly caught Oriel’s eye, not only because it mentioned Greece but also because of the arrogant turn of
phrase. She could almost hear the autocratic voice that had dictated those words.

  Still, it was an intriguing idea, working on a private island, Oriel thought as she let her gaze wander over the dreary Kentish view that extended beyond her window. It was the middle of spring, yet the weather behaved as if the countryside was still steeped in midwinter. She had come down from the house she shared in London with some of her old university friends for a few days’ holiday at her family home in Cranbrook, hoping for some sunshine so she could relax beside the pool. As she was an only child, her parents were always delighted to see and spoil her, particularly given that for most of the year Oriel worked abroad, travelling to archaeological sites that took her all over the world.

  She sipped her steaming coffee, sitting at the desk in her old bedroom, which hadn’t changed since she was a teenager, and smoothed the page of the folded newspaper thoughtfully. Nostalgic memories haunted the edges of her mind.

  Greece. It was a long time ago since she’d been back to that part of the world.

  She sighed wistfully, remembering her faraway moonlight experience that night six years ago on the small Greek island of Aegina. The sky had been a velvet-dark tapestry, illuminated by a full moon that cast a breathtaking staircase of light on a midnightblue sea; a night for lovers’ meetings, not for goodbyes. She had been conscious of the pervasive silence, broken only by the whispering, rhythmic lapping of the Mediterranean on the sable shore – a soothing sound. How strange it is, the way our memories are selective, she thought, as that episode of her life came back to her in every pulsing detail.

  At the age of twenty-two, Oriel had been on Aegina as part of her year’s placement, studying the Saronic islands for her MA in archaeology and anthropology. It had been a long day on the dig, made even longer by the anticipation of her fiancé Rob arriving that evening. Oriel had been excited about their week’s holiday, during which they were to make plans for their wedding. Kind, dependable Rob, who treated her like an equal and totally understood her drive to succeed in a man’s world. At Cambridge, she had fended off the attentions of many young men who underestimated her, but then Rob had come along. It hadn’t been just his good looks, intelligence and charming manner she had fallen for, they had been firm friends since their first meeting on campus.

  When Oriel had returned to her hotel late that afternoon and saw the envelope addressed to her in Rob’s familiar scrawl, her reaction had been one of surprise and delight. An incurable romantic, she had resisted the urge to rip it open there and then, and instead had strolled down to the beach as the sun was setting to read his letter during that magic hour.

  Maybe that was why the impact of its contents had been so devastating.

  She had stood a long time with the letter in her hand, shocked and feeling sick. Scanning past the preamble of excuses and explanations, she’d gone over his final lines again and again, hardly believing what the words were spelling out: ‘I don’t know how to write what I have to tell you, but I have no choice. I know you will understand and forgive us, sweet Oriel. Please believe me that Alicia and I fought our attraction for months, but eventually it became something neither of us could deny. We couldn’t help it, we just fell in love. Alicia is carrying my child and we will be married next month.’

  Rob and Alicia. Her fiancé and her best friend – how very unimaginative! She had trusted them both so implicitly. Staring at the innocent piece of paper that held such a cruel and bitter shock, a nauseous wave of disbelief had engulfed her. Later on, she acknowledged that she had been partly to blame, but it hadn’t made the sense of betrayal any better at the time. She had no doubt that her idealistic and rather old-fashioned attitudes to love and sex had been, to a great extent, the cause for Rob’s succumbing to Alicia’s alluring charms. Oriel had wanted the white dress and veil that she would be wearing on her wedding day to carry the authentic symbol of sexual purity, in the same way it had in her mother’s day. Rob had seemed patient and decent – but in the end had gone looking for greener pastures. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, she acknowledged that there had always been something missing: his kisses had not stirred her in the way she’d imagined they would, his touch didn’t move her to lose control as she thought it should. There was a passionate streak in her that was left untapped and unreleased. Perhaps that’s why she had found it easy to wait to surrender her virginity …

  Now her eyes returned to the bold advertisement. To be in Greece again was an enticing thought. Subsea exploration. Her pencil circled the words aimlessly over and over again. A job tailor-made for her! She had just finished an excavation assignment in the medieval city of Trondheim in Norway and was shortlisted for another position in the North Sea, off the Shetland Islands. Another dark and dreary place, she thought, without enthusiasm. Still, the imperious words of the advert, the sun and the beautiful, ever-changing colours of the Mediterranean beckoned. Besides, this wasn’t Aegina, and she was twenty-eight now: older and wiser than the young woman who had been hurt all those years ago.

  After all, it wasn’t just Rob who had caused her pain …

  Her mind slipped back into those distant memories. In one night she’d been forced to grow up, her whole philosophy in life coloured by a determination never to be hurt again. She could still remember it all so clearly: sitting on a boulder with Rob’s letter in one hand and the photograph from her wallet of the two of them in the other, trying to control the shaking that possessed her as the numb sickness had given way to anger. While looking blankly towards the horizon, where the lanterns of fishing boats danced on the dark waters like fireflies, Oriel had been blinded with sudden self-knowledge and the most terrible scorn: scorn for herself. What a colossal, naïve fool she’d been with her hopes and her dreams and her unrealistic idealism. ‘I know you will understand and forgive us,’ he had said presumptuously. So they were an ‘us’. A double betrayal. How they must be laughing at her. The humiliation of it all was too deep for tears. Oriel found herself shaking with a terrible anger – and not all of it directed at them, she realized. She was furious at herself too, with a rage that screamed for an outlet.

  Oriel had been sitting on the boulder for a long time, gazing distractedly towards the water, when she became vaguely aware of something moving in the shallows. The moon had by now disappeared behind a bank of cloud, extinguishing the glitter of the waves and the silvery patina on the rocks. The shift in darkness of the night sky made it difficult to see what had rippled the surface of the water. Frogmen night diving, she thought, or the slight undulation of the sea in the warm, salty breeze. She didn’t give it another thought, returning her attention to the winking lights of fishing boats on the horizon – and then, abruptly, he emerged …

  It was a man, but not one wearing a wetsuit, fins or diving mask; this one was almost naked, his modesty barely protected by what could only be defined as an apology for a low-rise brief. He was no mere trick of the light. Sleek and glorious, he was suddenly hurtling out of the water, throwing spray off his body like Poseidon rising from the waves.

  Oriel’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him, a small frown crinkling her brow. A curious sense of apprehension seeped into her veins. In the near-darkness he looked large, somewhat menacing and disturbingly masculine as he strode through the shallows. There was an air of unquestioned dominance about this man, an arrogant power that expressed itself in the controlled motion of his body as he sauntered on to the beach.

  For that fateful minute, she was totally helpless, in the grip of emotions too basic to be controlled by rational thought. Instead of turning to leave quickly, she continued to stare at the stranger who had materialized like a Greek god wading from the depths of the sea. The moon slid into view again, throwing a wash of silver over long muscular legs and narrow hips, wide shoulders and a sculpted torso, all combined in a vibrantly athletic stance. As his approaching form became more discernible, each smooth, fluid curve of muscle, each long line of sinew and bone, and each angular feature glis
tened with a radiance that stabbed Oriel straight to the heart. Hair as dark as the devil’s soul was dripping wet across his forehead and he lifted his hand to slick it away from his face, the moonlight catching every droplet that glittered like tiny diamonds across his skin.

  All at once, Oriel gathered her wits, conscious that she too was only lightly clad, just a muslin sarong covering her bikini. She remembered her mother’s warning that it wasn’t wise for a woman to venture out alone on a deserted beach, and she stood up to hurry back to her hotel, quickly tucking the letter and photograph into her sarong.

  Too late! She had barely taken a step before she found herself confronted by the tall, dark figure. Well above the average height of other Greek men, he towered over her, a dark silhouette against the moonlit sky. His eyes gleamed like steel against his deeply tanned skin as his gaze wandered over her and then rested upon her hair, which cascaded heavily down her back, pale and shining as the moon on the water. He had a strong masculine face, rather insolent and somewhat primitive – so much so that despite the tinge of fear fluttering through her, Oriel couldn’t help but feel mesmerized by this Adonis.

  ‘What brings a beautiful girl to such a deserted place on this enchanting night?’ he asked in English. His obvious Greek accent gave a delightful, smoky edge to his deep voice and sent an involuntary warmth up her spine. Slicking back his wet dark hair once more, he studied her openly. ‘You look like the ocean nymph, Calypso, waiting for Odysseus on your island, ready to bewitch him with your mesmerizing voice.’

  Oriel had been too startled, too alarmed, to reply at first. His comment was unexpected, and those glittering grey eyes seemed to hold her prisoner, flickering with amusement and something more intense. It was she who was bewitched.

  ‘I thought I was alone,’ she murmured, finally finding her voice.

  His mouth quirked. ‘So did I.’ He nodded behind him. ‘I dropped anchor back there to come in for an evening swim. It’s been a hot day.’ His eyes returned to her, intent and appraising.