PAGAN ADVERSARY (17 page)

Alex gave her a bleak look. 'And it is my wish that you remain

here—until the end of the month at least,' he added, forestalling the

further protest which was already trembling on her lips. 'I have to go

away on business tomorrow, so perhaps we could delay any further

discussion until my return.'

She had assented reluctantly, unable to subdue a swift inward pang at

the news that he was going to be absent, even for a short time. Her

own feelings aside, Alex was very much a bulwark between herself

and the unvarying hostility still evinced towards her by his mother

and aunt. Even in his presence, family mealtimes were an ordeal

where she was made to feel like an unwanted outsider. It was subtly

done, of course. There had been no repetition of the tactics which had

led to her being allocated a room which a servant might have

occupied.

Harriet had guessed from the tension in the atmosphere during the

first few days of her stay that Alex had made his views on that more

than clear. She was more than happy with her new room, and thankful

for it too, because the heat was such that she knew she would never

have got a moment's sleep in the other room, but at the same time she

wished Alex had never found out, because the resultant fuss had just

given his family something extra to resent her for.

It was absurd to feel hurt or even disturbed about that, but she did.

She liked people, and she always had. She had had plenty of friends at

work, even if her social life had become rather curtailed because of

Nicky. She had written a number of letters since she had been at the

villa, all of them giving glowing accounts of her surroundings,

making it all sound more fun than it actually was. Not even to Manda

had she confessed how miserable she really was. Not that she thought

for a moment that anyone at the villa would actually go to the lengths

of steaming open her correspondence to see what she was saying, but

because her unhappiness was somehow more bearable if she didn't

think about it too much. Writing about it might crystallise it in her

mind, and make her life here totally unbearable.

It was easier to keep up the pretence that she was having a wonderful

holiday in the sun in a particularly beautiful corner of the world. A

very restricted corner, she reminded herself wryly. All she had seen

of Corfu, apart from the initial trip across the island, was the villa

garden, and the small beach which she had made her ultimate refuge.

There was little wonder that Alex had placed an embargo on Nicky

going down there, and reinforced it with a gate which had to be kept

bolted at all times. The path leading down there was little better than a

track, steep and stony with a few rock steps provided here and there to

assist with the worst bits and a wooden handrail. Even so anyone

using the path needed to be surefooted and have their wits about

them, and Harriet usually went down there in the middle of the day,

after lunch when Nicky was having his siesta.

There was a small jetty on the beach, and a boatshed containing a

sleek, racy-looking speedboat, as well as a variety of water-skiing

and windsurfing equipment. Harriet supposed that Alex used them,

but she didn't know when. It was certainly never when she was down

at the cove.

She really hadn't had to worry at all about avoiding him, because it

was all being done for her. Until they had clashed over her proposed

return to London, he had been unfailingly civil, but always aloof,

making it tacitly but positively clear that there would be no more

love-making even of the most casual kind.

Harriet tried to tell herself that she should be grateful for this, because

if Alex had ever decided to amuse himself by pursuing her in real

earnest, then she could be in more trouble than she had ever dreamed

of. And he was i. man in need of amusement; she could be in no doubt

of that. The even tenor of life at the villa could not hold him for long.

There were few visitors, and when they did come, they were mostly

older couples, friends of Madame Marcos and her sister.

Alex went out a great deal in the evenings, and Harriet was unable to

blame him. She was thankful she had brought a bag of paperback

books with her to occupy her, usually retiring to her room

immediately after coffee was served each evening. Sometimes she

was woken, her room being at the front of the house, by returning

headlights, and she knew without even consulting her watch that it

was the early hours of the morning, and that Alex was home at last.

None of the defensive arguments against him that she had managed to

marshal could still the ache of longing deep within her which assailed

her every time she saw him. Watching him swimming in the pool, or

lying relaxed in the sun with only the minimal covering on his

bronzed body, or even catching an occasional breath of the cologne

he used as he went past her—all these things had the power to stir her,

to rouse passionately bitter-sweet memories.

If she'd belonged to him, if she'd known what it was like to make love

with him, then sleep in his arms, she couldn't have been more

physically conscious of him. The strength of her emotions, the force

of her awareness bewildered her. She'd never felt like this before. She

didn't know how to handle it, how to subdue her feelings.

She had thought about love, of course. She had had other boy-friends

apart from Roy, and when she had seen how happy Kostas and Becca

were together, she had looked forward from courtship to a marriage

of her own, because even in these uncertain days it seemed that love

and security were still possible and attainable.

It had been a calm, peaceful optimism about the future, but she knew

now that with Alex, she wouldn't care that there could never be any

future just as long as there was a 'now'. She was ashamed of feeling

like that. She had discovered depths within herself she had never

suspected, an ability to desire, to need which had shaken her totally.

In this alien place, far from home, she seemed to have become a

stranger to herself.

She capped the sun-oil bottle and lay back on the sun-lounger,

deliberately making herself relax as the warmth of the sun caressed

her limbs, listening to the somnolent whisper of the sea, only yards

away.

It was difficult to keep troubled thoughts at bay at times like this

when solitude pressed on her. No one had suggested that she might

like to do any . sightseeing while she was here. Well, she could hardly

expect an offer from Alex to show her the island in the circumstances,

but his wasn't the only car, and the driver who had brought them from

the airport wasn't overworked. But she couldn't ask. Any offer would

have to come from Madame Marcos, and would be as unlikely as a

sudden snow shower, she thought ruefully. Madame clearly felt that

sunbathing most of the day, and playing with a small child, was the

most her unwanted visitor could ask for, and Harriet knew that for

many people, a fortnight in these surroundings with nothing to do and

all day to do it in would be a dream holiday.

But she wasn't one of them. She felt restless and on edge. She had

thought Alex's absence would make things easier, but she was wrong.

The tension of actually being in his orbit was more than equalled by

the tension of wondering what he was doing and when he would

return. I can't win, she thought, half-closing her eyes so that the sun

was a golden shimmer through her lashes. ,

And now she had at least an hour to spend before she need/case

herself and go up to the villa to see Nicky. Who could ask for

anything more? she thought with self-mockery, knowing already

what the answer was. She wanted so very much more, and yet, if they

were offered, she would settle for crumbs instead of the proverbial

half-loaf.

She was dozing lightly when she heard the sound of footsteps coming

down the path. Her eyelids flew apart, and she sat up, propping

herself on one elbow. A man's step. It couldn't surely be Alex. She

had no idea how long he was going to be away, but she had formed

the impression that it could be measured in days rather than hours.

And though there was Andonis who worked mainly at the beach,

seeing to the boat and the gear, he wasn't usually around in the

afternoon.

No, the newcomer was a stranger to her. Young, male, wearing a

towelling beach jacket over brief trunks. He was shorter than Alex,

and stockier, with an apparently ready smile which he was aiming

directly at her. As he approached, Harriet felt ridiculously that her

black bikini was too revealing and half-reached for the thin shirt she

had adopted as a cover-up between the villa and the beach, then

stopped, telling herself firmly that she was just being prudish.

He reached her side and stood looking down at her. 'Thespinis

Masters?' His voice was more heavily accented than Alex's. 'I am

Spiro Constantis. My mother told me that we had the pleasure of your

company here for a few weeks. She did not warn me, however, that

you used this beach in the afternoon. I hope I do not intrude.'

Then where do they imagine I get to each day— disappear back into

the woodwork? Harriet managed to refrain from saying.

Aloud, she said 'Of course not. I suppose I should ask you the same

thing, Kyrios Constantis.'

'Spiro, if you please.' He pulled up another lounger and sat down,

'And I will call you Harriet,
nel
It is so?'

Harriet supposed it was. He seemed pleasant enough. Compared with

his maternal relations, he seemed positively charming, but for a

reason she found it difficult to analyse, she didn't want to seem too

forthcoming.

Spiro discarded his jacket, squinting appreciatively at the sky.

'A beautiful day—and a beautiful companion to share it with. I am

fortunate. Usually if there is female company at the villa, I have to

compete with my cousin Alex, and that'—he shrugged with

self-depreciation— 'is no contest at all.'

Harriet smiled rather stiffly. She had no need to be reminded of the

electrifying effect Alex had on women. She had seen it operate in

London, seen the glances which often couldn't even bother to be

discreet or sidelong as he went his arrogant way.

Collecting her thoughts hurriedly, she asked if Spiro worked for the

Marcos Corporation.

'Indeed yes—in the Athens office, but I was owed a few days' leave,

so I thought I would come here and meet my new little cousin.' He

sighed. 'Poor Kostas' son. What a tragedy!'

Harriet looked away, towards the sparkle of the sea. 'I thought it was,'

she said steadily. 'I loved Kostas, and my sister Becca was a super

girl. They were very happy.'

'That is a good thing to know,' Spiro said softly. 'When he was

younger, he caused my aunt many anxious hours.'

'Oh?' Harriet's brows lifted. Kostas might have had wild oats to sow

in the days before she had known him, but she could have sworn he

had never given Becca as much as an anxious moment. She paused,

then said rather woodenly, 'Then it's a pity she never found out what a

good effect his marriage had on him. I—I suppose if it hadn't been for

the accident, they'd have eventually been reconciled.' She made it into

a question, and Spiro's smile faded as he considered it.

'Perhaps,' he said at last. 'Kostas was her favourite son, even if he was

not—a satisfactory one. But I do not think—forgive me—that my

aunt would ever have received your sister. She felt—she still feels

great bitterness. You must understand that she felt— betrayed, and

that your sister contributed to that betrayal,'

Harriet gasped. 'In what way, for heaven's sake?' she demanded

indignantly.

Spiro looked uncomfortable. 'You do not know? But I thought—I

was sure that you would have been in your sister's confidence. Pardon

me, I should not have spoken.'

'No—please.' Harriet spoke urgently. 'If there's something I should

know, something which would help me understand, then I would

prefer to be told.'

He gave a slight shrug. 'Perhaps, but I do not feel it is my place to tell

you. Alex is the head of the family, after all.'

'Don't we know it,' Harriet muttered, and his gaze sharpened.

'So there has been—friction between you. Ah, poor Harriet, but it was

inevitable.' He paused, then said flatly, 'It might have been better if

you had not come here.'

'I had very little choice,' Harriet said defensively. 'Your cousin