He flung open a door leading into a large cabin as elegantly furnished as any suite in the Hotel Ariadne. The velvety soft cream carpet deadened the sound of their footsteps, and white laminate cupboards contrasted with the luxuriant greenery of dozens of pot plants. An enormous bed dominated the centre of the room, and square portholes along one wall offered a dazzling sunlit view of the blue sea outside. Philip opened another door to display a bathroom lined with sycamore panelling and smoked glass, then led the way back to a table overlooking the water.
'Why don't you put your equipment here so that you can get sorted out?' he invited.
But Kate was scarcely listening. She had paused to look at a framed enlargement of a photograph which hung on one wall.
'Isn't that the hill village of Theologos on Thasos?' she demanded. 'I went there with Andrew a few weeks ago, and I think I've got a photo taken from exactly the same spot.'
She fished in a pocket of her camera bag for a small plastic wallet full of prints, and flicked through them.
'Yes, there it is!' she exclaimed delightedly, holding it up against the photo on the wall to compare the two.'May I see?' asked Philip.
'Yes, of course.'
She handed him the wallet and sat down at the table to begin assembling her equipment. Philip's face took on an intent, absorbed expression as he compared the two prints.
'Yours is by far the better photo,' he said thoughtfully. 'How interesting! As you say, they are taken from almost exactly the same spot and yet your picture captures the haunting, romantic quality of the village in the way the other does not. May I look at the rest of these?'
'Mmm. Be my guest,' agreed Kate in a preoccupied voice, hunting through the pockets of her bag for a filter. 'There's nothing very exciting among them, though. They were mostly character studies of people that I saw.'
Philip sat at the table and studied the photos. One of them, which was a study of an old man and woman trudging along a rough road together, seemed to catch his attention particularly and he turned back to it several times. And there was another photo of a young mother tossing her child playfully in the air in front of a dilapidated house that also caught his gaze.
'How much you are able to say without words, Katarina,' he said wonderingly. 'These two old people, for instance; you seem to be telling us that, no matter how rough the road, they will cope with the pitfalls because they are meeting them side by side. And this young woman with her laughing baby in front of that awful wreck of a house! Are you telling us perhaps that, however poor she may be, she is rich in the things that really matter and fortunate enough to realise it?'
Kate shrugged self-consciously.
'Yes, I suppose I was,' she agreed. 'I don't really stop to analyse it myself, but sometimes I'm profoundly moved by the sight of people doing quite ordinary things. Ordinary lives seem so rich to me sometimes, and I suspect we don't appreciate simple joys enough. At any rate, when I see something like that I try to capture the feeling it gives me on film.'
'And you succeed amazingly well,' Philip assured her. 'You know that you're remarkably talented, don't you?'
Kate wriggled uncomfortably.
'No, I'm not!' she protested. 'It's nice of you to say so, but it's not true. My parents always despaired of me because I wasn't good at anything, and that hasn't changed. I don't even seem to be good at finding the simple joys of life, let alone succeeding at anything. But I certainly admire the people who can.'
'What nonsense is this?' demanded Philip. 'You take photos of my countrymen that are so powerful that they move me almost to tears and you tell me you are no good at anything? And you make an evening in a rundown village like Ayfa Sofia a memory I will treasure for the rest of my life and yet you say you have no talent for the simple joys? How can you be so blind to what you are, to the effect you have on other people? You should be living a full, rich life, glorying in your work and with a family who would love and appreciate your unique qualities.'
His hand came down on her shoulder and he gazed searchingly into her face, but she pulled away and took a couple of restless steps, twisting her hands together.
'Don't be ridiculous!' she said shakily. 'I'm not anything except a rather unsuccessful photographer. My parents were always high achievers, and I know I'm a disappointment to them. And who else is likely to love and appreciate my unique qualities, as you put it?'
Her whole body was tense with resentment and her voice sounded harsh with bitterness. Philip swung her round suddenly to face him and pulled her hard against his chest.
'I would!' he said fervently, burying his face in the heady fragrance of her hair. 'You're the kind of woman a man could worship for his entire life, Katarina. Full of character and love and warmth. This sarcasm doesn't suit you.'
For an instant Kate clung to him, intoxicated by the forbidden joy of his powerful arms around her, the caress of his lips on her hair, the sheer masculine magnetism that he radiated. Then she pushed him resolutely away.
'That's all very well,' she said in a taut, desperate voice. 'But you're already engaged to somebody else, and I didn't come here to be kissed, I came here to work! Now will you please leave me alone and let me get on with it?'
Philip's gaze lingered on her for a long, burning interval, as if he was committing her features to memory, then he turned abruptly towards the door.
'Yes, I suppose you're right,' he said curtly. 'Let me know if you need anything further. I'll be in the wheel- house most of the time. And do join us for lunch in the dining-room at two o'clock, won't you?'
Left alone, Kate sat down at the table, buried her face in her hands and gave an inarticulate sob of dismay. If only Philip didn't have this devastating effect on her! She was drawn to him as inexorably as iron to a magnet, and
when he held her in his arms it was easy to believe that he felt the same terrifying surge of emotion as she did. It was as if she had fallen into a river and was being carried along by a raging torrent of need and desire, but she mustn't allow herself to be dragged under. Philip was engaged to Irene and, whether he loved her or not, would no doubt marry her as custom demanded.
Which left no place at all for Kate Walsh in his life. Except as a paid photographer. Giving herself a brisk shake, Kate rose to her feet and slung her camera determinedly over her shoulder. The sooner she finished these photos, the sooner she could leave the Hotel Ariadne. And that was undoubtedly the best thing for everyone concerned.
To her surprise the rest of the morning passed very quickly. Once she had her cameras and light meter set up, she became totally absorbed in the task of capturing the Eleftheria on film. It came as a shock when she heard the familiar sound of a speedboat motor approaching the yacht, and realised that it was after one-thirty. Leaping to her feet, she looked out of the window of the state-room. Bobbing alongside the yacht was a speedboat filled with a group of rowdy occupants. A white-uniformed crew-member in their midst seemed to be pleading with them to move out of his way and, as Kate watched transfixed, there was a sudden loud bump, followed by a scraping noise and a cry of dismay from the sailor. However, his passengers merely gave a raucous cheer before scrambling clumsily aboard. A sudden knock at the door made Kate swing sharply round. It was Philip's secretary, Nikos Vassiliou.
'Excuse me, Miss Walsh,' said Nikos apologetically, 'Miss Marmara and the others are back, so if you could come to the dining-room now I'd be grateful.
She hates to be kept waiting at mealtimes.'
But when Kate made her way hesitantly into the dining- room she found it empty. Not knowing what to do, she hovered nervously, admiring the bright red and blue neon tetras in the aquarium. A white-clad steward materialised at her elbow and gave her a reassuring smile.
'Do sit down, Miss Walsh,' he urged. 'Mr Andronikos has just been called to the radio phone, but Miss Marmara and the others won't be long. Can I get you a drink while you're waiting?'
'Thank you,' replied Kate. 'I'll have a Perrier water, please.'
She was sipping hesitantly at her drink when a sudden commotion outside the dining-room announced the arrival of the others. To Kate's amazement a dark-haired girl, clad only in a skimpy red bikini, suddenly catapulted into the room, followed by a sun-bronzed young man, who was tickling her furiously. The girl shrieked and writhed protestingly, then suddenly froze as shecaught sight of Kate. Her lustrous dark eyes had a vague, blurred look, and she put up one hand to her head and pushed back a strand of silky black hair.
'Who the hell are you?' she demanded peremptorily.
Awkwardly Kate rose to her feet and came around the table. Then she reached out her hand and smiled.
'My name is Kate Walsh,' she said. 'I'm a photographer. I've been doing some photos of the yacht for Mr Andronikos and he invited me to lunch.'
'Damn!' exclaimed the girl in the bikini. 'Isn't that the absolute limit?'
She ignored Kate's outstretched hand and looked around her for agreement.
A second man, in his mid- twenties, dark-haired and handsome, had followed her into the room. The girl's voice rose in a penetrating whine.
'Stavros, Yves! I ask you! Isn't it too much? Every time Philip has some nobody on board to work for him he must always ask them to eat with us! I suppose it's because he came from the gutter himself that he only feels comfortable with servants. Next he'll be inviting the mechanics and the cleaners to sit down to meals with us. Well, I've had enough of it, do you hear me?'
She turned furiously to face Kate again, but almost lost her balance and had to clutch at one of the leather chairs for support.
'You can go and eat with the crew where you belong!' she spat.
Aghast at this outburst, Kate backed uneasily away, feeling that she would be only too happy to join the crew. But the dark-haired young man hurried forward and took her arm.
'Miss Walsh, please,' he begged. 'Wait! My sister doesn't mean a word of this. It is just that she has a touch of the sun. Come on, sit down, finish your drink.'
In a couple of swift, urgent movements he had coaxed Kate back into her seat and seized his sister none too gently by the arm. Giving her a reproving shake, he launched into a torrent of Greek, in which Kate could distinguish nothing more than the word 'Andronikos'. But whatever he said must have taken effect, for Irene allowed herself to be hauled unceremoniously into a chair. She sat there for a full minute, her eyes bright with unshed tears and her lower lip quivering like a child's, glaring at Kate. Then, as her brother gave her a sharp reminder in Greek, she capitulated.
'Please accept my apologies, Miss Walsh,' she muttered.
'Of course,' said Kate shakily, feeling that she would have liked the apologies much better if they had not been accompanied by such a venomous stare.
However, Irene's brother seemed perfectly satisfied with this conclusion.
Seating himself at a place opposite Kate, he smiled charmingly around the table. Although Irene's lush curves were only held in place by the flimsiest of bikinis and Yves wore only brief shorts and a gold medallion, Stavros gave the impression that he was presiding over a formal luncheon party.
'Great, now we can all be friends and introduce ourselves,' he said in an accent that was more American than Greek. 'Miss Walsh, this is my sister, Irene Marmara, who is Philip Andronikos's fiancee. I'm Stavros Marmara, and this guy is our friend, Yves Sauvignon. Now what are we going to drink?'
Kate could not suppress the unwelcome suspicion that they had already had far too much to drink. Irene's face was flushed and perspiring, and Yves was slurring his words slightly, while even Stavros seemed to have unnaturally
bright eyes. They were just beginning a noisy argument on the rival merits of two different brands of French champagne when Philip appeared in the doorway. Kate gazed up with relief at the sight of that unsmiling face, and her noisy companions fell silent.
'Good afternoon,' said Philip smoothly. 'I apologise for keeping you all waiting. I'm surprised you didn't take the opportunity to get dressed, Irene.'
His glance flicked disapprovingly over the lush curves of her breasts in the revealing red bikini and came to a halt on Yves's arm, which was draped around her shoulder.
'Still, I'm sure we'll all be glad to wait while you go and slip into something more appropriate,' he finished.
'I wouldn't put you to the trouble,' sneered Irene. 'I'm perfectly happy as I am.'
'Oh, it's no trouble,' retorted Philip. 'In fact, I insist. Now run along, Irene.'
Kate caught her breath as she heard the steely undertone in his voice. For a moment she thought Irene would erupt like an angry child, but the younger girl simply thrust out her lip and flounced out of the room. When she returned five minutes later in a red and white striped Givenchy summer dress, Philip saluted her with his glass of Perrier water.
'You look very nice,' he said sincerely.
'Do I?' retorted Irene, slipping into her seat. 'Thanks for noticing!'
The tension between the pair made Kate feel thoroughly uncomfortable as the meal went on. She enjoyed the grilled octopus and the Greek salad, but there was no doubt that the conversation flagged. Stavros smiled warmly at her and tried to draw her into a discussion about skiing at Gstaad, but, since Kate had never skied, that proved a total failure. Seeing a wooden look on Philip's face, she realised to her astonishment that he was just as bored as she was by all the talk of slaloms and downhill runs. He made no attempt to join in the screams of laughter which accompanied Irene's anecdotes about
the high life in Monaco and Biarritz and, when the steward reappeared with coffee and sticky pastries, he waved them away and pushed back his chair.
'Well, I've got work to do if you'll excuse me,' said Philip tersely. 'I'm planning on going ashore about four- thirty if that suits you, Katarina.'
'Yes, of course,' agreed Kate in a subdued voice. 'I think I'll get back to work too now. No, no coffee or pastry, thank you.'
She made her escape with relief, glad to be out of a gathering where she was so clearly not wanted. All the same, she could not help pondering on the nature of Philip's relationship with Irene as she went back to work. It was obvious that the shallow, pleasure-seeking life that Irene revelled in had little appeal for the man who was to marry her, and it was hard to see how the marriage could ever work. But it's nothing to do with me, Kate thought firmly. And if I encounter Irene again I'll just try and be as pleasant as I can towards her. Even so, she breathed more freely when she heard the run-about leave again at about three o'clock for another spearfishing excursion.
An hour or so later Kate was out on the lower deck of the yacht taking photos. Nikos had just come down to hand her the final page of the yacht's inventory when suddenly a loud noise rent the air. Kate shaded her eyes against the glare and saw the speedboat roaring across the water on its way back from the afternoon's spearfishing. The secretary's eyes met hers in a shared moment of misgiving. Just as well Giorgos is with them, thought Kate. Not one of them is sober enough to handle a boat, let alone a spear-gun. Still, I don't suppose they can do much harm if they're properly supervised. But that was just where she was wrong.
'Look at them!' exclaimed Nikos in disgust. 'That stupid Yves will ram us if he's not careful. They're all as drunk as they can be!'
But at the last moment Yves cut the motor and drifted safely in to the side of the yacht. Irene gave a little whoop of triumph and swayed to her feet to congratulate him.'I'd better go and give them a hand,' said Nikos, setting down his clipboard. 'She'll be lucky if she doesn't fall overboard in that condition.'
He went nimbly down the gangway and stood by as Giorgos made the speedboat fast. Yves rose to his feet with a spear-gun in his hand.
'Give that to me, sir,' said Nikos, eyeing it warily. 'Then you and Miss Marmara can come aboard.'
Yves held out the spear-gun, and at that moment everything seemed to happen at once. With a giggle Irene bent forward and tickled Yves, who doubled up with a startled cry. There was a loud whizzing thunk as the spear-gun discharged. Ire
ne screamed piercingly, Nikos leapt back with an agonised howl and blood sprayed all over the foredeck.
Kate was down the companion-way in half a second flat to the spot where Nikos lay groaning horribly with a white-faced Giorgos bending over him.
'Stand aside,' she commanded. 'Let me look at him. Oh, no, it's an artery!
We must stop the bleeding. Giorgos, clamp your hand over the wound.'
But Giorgos, with a low, strangled moan, simply swayed on his feet and fell down in a dead faint beside Nikos. Kate let out an impatient cry and pushed him aside. Careless of the blood that spurted over as she knelt beside Nikos, she grabbed his wounded forearm and held it firmly. Then, staggering to her feet, she began to drag him the short distance towards the speedboat.
'Quickly! We must get him to a doctor before he bleeds to death!' she panted.
Just at that moment Philip appeared at the top of the stairs and caught a swift glimpse of her swaying, bloodstained figure.
'Philip!' she cried. 'Help! Help!'
He was with her in an instant, his powerful arms flung round her, his frantic fingers exploring her face.
'Katarina! What happened to you? You're covered in blood!'
She saw his ashen face and realised that his concern for her. Desperately she tried to explain.
'No, no. It's not me! I'm all right! It's Nikos—the spear-gun. Oh, Philip, for heaven's sake, get him to a doctor!'
Somehow they succeeded in getting the injured man aboard and, while Kate kept the wound firmly clamped, Philip turned the speedboat towards the shore. Kate tried to blot out the sound of Nikos's agonised groans and Irene's hysterical sobbing, intent only on reaching a doctor. With a gasp of relief she saw the stone jetty looming up ahead of them.
There was a lot of frenzied shouting after that. Figures running with a stretcher, a man with a hypodermic syringe, calls for an ambulance. But Kate was no longer part of it. Pushing her hair back from her face with a shaky sigh, she realised suddenly that she was trembling all over and clad in nothing but a bloodstained blouse and shorts. A hot shower suddenly seemed like a very good idea.
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