Beware of the Beast (24 page)

Alex was unperturbed, and spoke to her often through the
microphones, pointing out the larger islands and telling her a little of their history. They almost achieved the closeness and
companionship they had known in that week before Alex
left for New York, that week before their relationship was
irrevocably changed. But while they could never again share
that almost platonic friendship, in some ways their association
was deeper now and more intimate than before. Charlotte
was aware of this even though she
endeavoured
to reject it.

They landed at a private flying club some distance from the
city, and had a drink in the clubhouse while Alex phoned for a car. The chauffeur who had met them the day they landed--
in Athens from London arrived soon afterwards in the sleek
black limousine Charlotte remembered, and he drove them
into the city.

Even through the rain, Charlotte could admire the classic
beauty of the Parthenon towering on the hills above the city
and Alex promised that the next time he brought her to Athens
he would take her up to the Acropolis.
The next time —
Charlotte found she liked those words, even if she had to acknowledge that if it was another three months before she
visited the city she would be in no condition to trail around
the tourist attractions.

Shopping was tiring, even using the car. Charlotte was not
used to the crowds of people
tlironging
the streets, the honk
of horns and the scream of brakes, and she found it all a little
overpowering. Alex was the only friendly face she saw, and
after becoming separated from him once, she took his arm
and held on to it.

But it was pleasant to see the gaily decorated shops, the
coloured
lights and painted icons. The trappings of Christmas
had a similarity the world over, and Charlotte couldn't help
the wave of homesickness which suddenly filled her. Last
Christmas she had spent with her father, at a ski resort in
Austria. It was only now she remembered he had spent a lot
of evenings at the casino.
    

They had lunch at a large restaurant overlooking Constitu
tion Square.
Syntagma
Square, Alex told her, was the Greek
name, and Charlotte thought she liked the sound of that
better. They ate grilled prawns and
moussaka
,
the latter a little
rich for Charlotte's taste, and finished with cheese and figs. The cheese, too, was stronger than she cared for, but Alex
appeared to have no such reservations. Sitting across the table
from her, attractively relaxed, he obviously enjoyed the food, and the casual conversation he conducted put her completely
at her ease. Some Greek musicians played throughout the meal,
and the whole atmosphere was exciting.

During the afternoon, Charlotte bought some cards, and a
few small presents for
Cristof
, Maria and the girls. Alex left
her at one point to make a phone call, and while he was away
she purchased a hand-woven shawl for
Eleni
,
and a long-play
ing record by one of his
favourite
recording artists for Alex
himself. She had not a lot of money to spend, and although
Alex had told her he had accounts at most of the larger
department stores, she could not bring herself to use his
name. So far it had been an anonymous day, the two of them
mingling with the crowds like any other shoppers. She did
not want to draw attention to his identity, anyone might hear,
and even if it was ridiculous, she genuinely cared what happened
to him. Besides, she did not want to buy
his
present with
his
money.

A plastic carrier advertising a
favourite
brand of vermouth
successfully concealed her purchases from Alex's discerning
eyes, and when he suggested they ought to be leaving, she was only too willing to agree. It had been a long tiring day,
and she looked forward to getting home again.
Home?
What
an impressionable idiot she must be, she thought angrily. Already she was thinking of
Lydros
as home, when in a few
months her presence there would no longer be required.

She was quiet on the journey back to the island,-answering
Alex in monosyllables when he spoke to her. Truthfully, the
painful thoughts she had had earlier were not wholly respons
ible. The taste of
aubergines
was strong in her throat, and
she wished she had not eaten the cheese. She tormented herself
with the question of what she would do if she actually needed
to be sick, and in the confined space of the cabin it was a
terrifying possibility.

Alex became aware of her discomfort towards the end of the
journey. To begin with all his energies had been taken up with
controlling the helicopter, and he had had no time to query
her apparent hostility. But when he took a proper look at her pale face, he shook his head impatiently.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded. "You feel sick
,
:
3n't you? God, what am I? An unfeeling monster, that
you
 
wouldn't
dare to tell me?"

Charlotte sighed. "What could you have done?"

"I could have put the helicopter down on one of the other
islands. It has been known in an emergency, you know."

Charlotte looked apologetic. "Actually, I feel a bit better
now. It - it was the
moussaka
,
I think.
And perhaps the cheese."

"You're sure you're all right now?" he insisted.

Charlotte nodded. "We'll be landing soon, won't we?"

"Yes. Yes, we will." Alex turned his attention back to
the controls. "But in future, remember that I have a vested
interest in your wellbeing."

Charlotte thought she hated him at that moment. She
didn't care that he might have been hurt at her determination
sot to share her anxieties with him, or that he might genuinely
worry about her. To her, that cold statement summed up Ms
reasons
for anything he ever did for her.

CHAPTER TEN

Eleni's
brother arrived two days before Christmas, but he
was not alone. He had brought his granddaughter with him.

Irena
Kalamos
was a beautiful Greek girl, perhaps a year or
two older than Charlotte, with lustrous dark hair and eyes
edged with sooty black lashes.
like
many Greek women,
she did not favour the fashionable slenderness so popular in
the west, and her curves were roundly voluptuous. Her
clothes fitted closely,
emphasising
the fullness of her breasts,
the provocative swing of her
hips,
and her eyes rested on
Alex with evident approval.

Charlotte met the visitors on the day of their arrival.
Dimitrios
had flown to the mainland to bring Franco
Kalamos
to
Eleni's
cottage, and it had been arranged that the two older
people should join Charlotte, Alex and George for dinner
that evening.

However, when Alex was told that as well as his great-
uncle, a distant cousin had also arrived, he decided that
Eleni
could not possibly accommodate them both at her small cot
tage. In consequence, Franco and Irena arrived at the villa
late in the afternoon, full of gratitude for Alex's thoughtful-
ness.

Meeting Irena for the first time, Charlotte wished Alex had
consulted her before offering them their hospitality. Although
she knew she had no reason to feel that way, she disliked the
other
girls's
immediately monopoly of her husband's conversation, and an
emotion
she refused to identify curled her
hands into fists every time she heard Irena's provoking
laugh.

She was dressing for dinner that evening when Alex came
into her bedroom. He was already changed, his dark attraction
accentuated by the maroon silk shirt he was wearing together
with black suede pants that clung to the powerful muscles of
his legs. Charlotte, wearing only a thin slip, was supremely
conscious of her own vulnerability, and she felt his eyes rest
ing on the slight swell of her abdomen. Then his gaze shifted to her face, his lips twisting at her startled expression.

"Please," he said, "don't be alarmed. I have not come here
to seduce you. But ..." he glanced round, "I have given
Franco my room and I wondered if you have any particular
objections if I slept in the dressing room adjoining this."

Charlotte expelled her breath on a gasp. For a minute she
had thought he was about to suggest sharing her room, and
the mixed emotions this had aroused frightened her. Far from objecting, she might well have welcomed his suggestion, but
it was fortunate she had not had to make that choice.

"I - well, no," she managed jerkily. "Providing
- "

"I shan't intrude on you more than I have to," he retorted
sharply. "I may need to use the bathroom, of course, but that's
all."

Charlotte shrugged awkwardly. "It's your house."

Alex regarded her coldly. "Yes, it is. Thank you for your
indulgence." And he left her.

Charlotte wore a long yellow caftan that evening, its
plainness relieved by dark brown
frogging
all the way down
the front and wide sleeves decorated with the same brown
braid, its fullness only hinted at the slender curves beneath, but the low neckline in front drew attention to the
tantalising
hollow between her breasts.

Irena, in rich red satin, could not have provided more of a
contrast, her skirt
moulding
her body like a second skin.
Scarlet fingernails lingered against Alex's sleeve as she drew
his attention to what she was saying, and Charlotte resigned
herself to remaining in the background.

Eleni
had joined them for dinner, and Charlotte was not
surprised to hear Alex suggesting that she should come and stay at the villa, too, while her brother was here.
Eleni
said
she would think about it, but obviously she found the idea
appealing. She and Franco saw one another so rarely, and would
naturally have plenty to talk about.

Charlotte found herself with George
Constandis
when they
went to have dinner, and was pleasurably surprised when Alex
insisted that she took the seat beside his. Of course, Irena
occupied the seat at his other hand, and during the course of
the meal Charlotte found herself turning more and more to
Alex's assistant for conversation; Irena did her best to monop
olize Alex's attention, and Charlotte could feel a burning
resentment
smouldering
inside her. She refused to identify
it as jealousy, but that was what it was, and she felt she would
like to scratch Irena's eyes out.

When the meal was over, coffee was served in the lounge,
and Charlotte was ensconced on the couch beside Franco
Kalamos
. He was an elderly man, tall like his sister, but with
out her stature. He stooped a little, and his hair was very
thin, but he had a charming smile which he used to good
effect, Tina brought in the tray of coffee and set it beside Charlotte, and when she said she did not take any herself, he
said:

"Do you not like our strong beverage,
pethi
mou
?"

Charlotte managed to control her
colour
. "I used to like it,"
she murmured unobtrusively.

"I see." The old man's eyes grew thoughtful. "And do you
not find life on
Lydros
rather isolated after London?" he
added. "London was where you had your home, was it not?"

"That's right. I suppose
Lydros
is isolated, as you say.
But I like it."