Devil in Disguise

by Jessica Steele

  'It disturbs you, Clare, seeing me dressed like this?' She coloured, and couldn't answer, embarrassed to be caught looking at his manly chest. 'I will go and dress,' he said, rising. But Clare had found her voice.

  'Oh no, don't,' she said quickly, not wanting anything to break the pleasantness of this impromptu occasion. And when he looked questioningly, 'It's—it's nice sitting here like this.'

  'It is, isn't it?' he agreed after a long moment of looking at her, and smiled then as if what she had said pleased him, and sat down again.

  Clare had nearly finished her tea, was wondering if she could prolong this lovely interlude by asking for another cup, when he remarked:

  'You show no curiosity about whom I was telephoning.'

  'I thought it must be business,' she replied, having not thought about his call very much at all, though common sense should have told her he wouldn't be making a business call at that hour—though he could have been contacting someone abroad.

  'I telephoned Aeneas,' Lazar told her quietly.

  'Aeneas?' she repeated. 'Your brother?' And all at once she was flooded with remorse that in the ten minutes or so they had just spent in easy conversation, not once had she brought up the subject of her brother. 'Kit ...' she began, hastily now.

  'Aeneas will take your brother to Athens this morning.'

  Alarm, fears for Kit had her stopping him from adding anything else. 'You won't—he won't—the punishment you ...' She couldn't bring it out.

  'I cannot punish you, Clare.' His face was no longer smiling, `You, I think, know that. I realise now that I know what I do about you that I have already made you suffer more than I can bear to think about.'

  ‘No, Lazar,' she denied, doubly aware now of his sensitivity.

  He ignored her denial and would have spoken again, but it was coming through to her that if he couldn't punish her, then it must mean that Kit still had to be punished—and Lazar had stated at one time that he intended to do that personally.

  'You are going to Athens too, aren't you?' she said woodenly.

  He nodded, his expression changing. 'I shall meet Aeneas and your brother at my parents' home.'

  Suddenly her voice was choked with fear. 'Lazar,' she begged urgently, her voice husky, `don't—don't hurt Kit. Please say you won't harm him ! '

  She had hoped never to see that hard cold look on him again, for he had been so kind to her that her imagination had had her believing they had gone past such things. But the coldness in him, the hardness in him, was there in his expression, and he was all proud Greek as he replied:

  `I will deal fairly with him.'

  With that she had to be satisfied. His look told her she could plead from now until forever, but that her brother would receive exactly what was due. She felt sick at heart. All her enjoyment of spending this time with Lazar had gone. He refused to believe his sister would tell a lie to her parents, so that could only mean that whatever Kit said would be regarded as untrue. Where was the fairness in that?

  'Lazar,' a request sprang from her, ‘ let me come too.' Perhaps she would be allowed to put in a word on Kit's behalf—it wouldn't be for the want of trying if she couldn't. But she discovered Lazar had no intention of taking her to Athens with him.

  `No, Clare,' he said stiffly, 'I think not.'

  `But why? I ...'

  'It will be too—unpleasant for you.'

  Unpleasant? Oh God, poor Kit! Clare went right off the idea of having a second cup of tea. She stood up, not at all surprised that Lazar didn't look regretful at her move. He still had that proud Greek look about him.

  'I think I'll go back to my room,' she said coolly, finding she had a pride of her own.

  'I have said I will treat your brother fairly, Clare,' he said, his attitude unbending, so that she found no comfort in his words if that was his intention. 'Try to get some sleep.'

  Without speaking again, Clare left him, her thoughts with Kit and what was going to happen to him. Lazar had repeated that he would treat him fairly, but what was fair? She didn't for a moment think he would _hear what Kit had to say and then tell him in that courteous way he had with him sometimes that everything was all right and that they could both go home. Go home!

  Those two words had the power to take all other thoughts from her mind. Go home! The words shattered her. She didn't want to go home! But she must.

  She must want to go home, she thought, trying to ignore what was in her heart.

  Stunned, the truth spinning round in her head, she flopped to sit on her bed. No amount of telling herself she must want to return to England worked. The truth was still there. This part of Greece had stolen a small part of her heart, the rest had all been stolen by—Lazar! She didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay—with him.

  Vacantly her eyes stared into space. What a blind fool she had been! Her love for Lazar had been there for days now, how could she have missed seeing it? How could she stop it? She couldn't, she realised. She was so deeply in love with Lazar Vardakas that she wanted never to leave him.

  Absolutely wretched, she was forced to face the fact that she was in love with a man who with his strict code of honour was ready to use physical violence on her brother, maim him for life most likely. Oh, how could she love such a man?

  Despair had her throwing herself face down on her bed, her pain too searing for tears. Even if at the very best they were lucky and Kit came out of this without a bruise, she knew complete and utter hopelessness in the knowledge that Lazar would never come to care for her.

  Feeling flattened by her frayed emotions, Clare eventually left her bed, the idea with her to have a quick shower, dress and once more ask Lazar to take her with him. Though as she stood under the shower she admitted that her need for him to take her with him was tinged with wanting to spend as much time as she could in his company, suspecting that whichever way the confrontation with Kit went, very soon she would be saying goodbye to Lazar for ever.

  Shock and disappointment hit her, however, when she went to look for Lazar. For she found only Phoebe, who to her dismay signed to her that he had already left.

  That Saturday was the longest Saturday in Clare's life. Food was out of the question; to eat when heaven knew what was happening in Athens made her stomach rise up just to think of eating.

  She did not move from the villa, pinning her hopes on the thought that surely, knowing how worried she must be, that courtesy of Lazar's would have him picking up the phone to tell her what had happened.

  Throughout those long waiting hours, just as if she knew what she was going through, Phoebe served her tea and coffee at regular intervals. But at half past four Clare could stand to be indoors no longer. She was convinced as she made her way down to the beach that he would not be phoning now. Her thoughts were not happy as she wandered away from the villa, scenery she had found so breathtaking ignored.

  She was still on the beach half an hour later when she came out of her reverie of misery, and the sound of a car coming down the drive penetrated. Then she was racing across the sand without giving thought to the fact that it could well be someone other than Lazar.

  Tearing round the side of the villa, she stopped dead. There were two men walking from the car towards the terrace, neither of whom was Lazar. Fleetingly her mind picked up that one of the men, not so tall and thicker set than Lazar, bore some resemblance to the man she loved. But that was all that had time to register. For the other man, lanky with a thatch of blond hair and appearing to be all in one piece with not a mark on him, had a dam bursting inside her and she was running to fling herself at him.

  `Kit, oh, Kit!' she cried, her relief too great to be borne.

  Kit hugged her to him, but only briefly before pushing her away as if needing to see for himself how she had fared.

  `He said you were all right,' he said quickly. `Are you, Clare? Did he ...'

  `I'm fine, fine,' she hastened to assure him. `Lazar,' she added, knowing it was Lazar Kit must be speaking of, `Lazar behaved pe
rfectly.' She wiped her eyes, and gave him a happy smile to add weight to her assurances. `But how about you? Are you ...'

  `Physically not a scratch,' Kit shrugged. `But this whole thing has been a nightmare. There was no way I could get off that damned island even if I had any idea where to find you. I've been ... Well, it doesn't matter about me. Are you sure you're all right?'

  Again Clare was at pains to assure him that no harm had befallen her—her aching heart was her secret. And then she became aware how rude she must appear to the man standing beside Kit waiting politely for brother and sister to get their greetings over.

  Kit followed the direction of her eyes, then as though he was not certain she would care to be introduced to another Greek as long as she lived, the good manners of his own upbringing had him introducing Lazar's brother, Aeneas Vardakas.

  Without hesitation, though her manner was shy as it always was with strangers, Clare extended her hand. Aeneas, a smiling man, took it and shook it warmly.

  `Er—Lazar didn't come back with you?' she asked, trying not to let either man see how important the answer was to her.

  'We flew to Thessaloniki together,' Aeneas told her, `but Lazar went from the airport to visit our uncle. He is in hospital,' he thought to add.

  `Oh yes,' said Clare, and then Kit, to her dismay, was telling her:

  `A flight has been arranged for us for later this evening.'

  `Tonight?' she exclaimed, her heart somewhere down in her boots, though not knowing what else she had expected.

  `No point in hanging around,' Kit gave his opinion.

  `Of course not,' she replied, and needing to be alone, suspecting there were more tears to come, `I'll—er—go and pack.'

  The three of them walked on to the terrace, Aeneas saying he would go and see about some refreshments.

  `Not for me,' Kit stopped him. `I'll go and talk to Clare while she's packing.'

  Clare led the way to her room, fighting against her inner feelings. But she was just not up to answering any of the questions Kit was ready to put to her as she got out her suitcase and began to fill it.

  `Won't you. tell me what happened in Athens today, Kit?' she forestalled his first question of what on earth was Bruce thinking of letting her come away with a stranger. `It's been a terrible day for me, waiting, not knowing if you were ...'

  `All right, love.' Kit shelved his own enquiries, Clare's peace of mind as always being his first thought. `Though where to begin ...' He thought for a second or two, then said, `Well, you know I'd been accused of getting Sophronia drunk and then—er—seducing her?' He looked quickly at her to see how she was taking such talk, prepared to clam up if she looked in any way upset.

  `Yes, Lazar told me. But I told him you wouldn't have done that unless she was willing.'

  Kit looked his thanks. `Right. Well, I'll scrub round the fact that I nearly went bonkers with worrying about you, and get round to this morning when Aeneas had mobilised the boat and said we were going to Athens. We went to this architect's dream of a place where his parents live—the parents kept out of sight, by the way. But that lying madam Sophronia was there.'

  `Sophronia!' Clare exclaimed, having given some thought to the girl during the day, but never having thought for a second that Lazar would put her anywhere near Kit again.

  `Mm,' Kit confirmed. `As soon as I saw her I began to feel easier, though I still didn't know that they weren't going to give me a going over. But when I saw her I realised Lazar Vardakas was determined to get to the truth.'

  `But—but he was so certain she hadn't lied,' Clare put in, remembering he had not even deigned to consider the possibility before.

  'I thought it looked that way too to begin with,' Kit mused. `I certainly came in for the cold haughty treatment as he looked down his nose and insisted I repeat to him what I'd already told Aeneas a hundred times.'

  `About the way you took Sophronia back to that flat?’

  'It doesn't sound too good, does it? I admitted that myself. But as they say, circumstances alter cases.'

  `What were the circumstances, Kit?'

  He gave her a friendly grin. 'Here goes, for the hundred and second time,' he said, then after a pause, `I was minding my own business walking by some derelict buildings when I heard someone crying. By the time I traced the sound the crying was louder and there was this girl sitting breaking her heart on some crumbly old steps. Well, I just couldn't walk away, could I? I mean, anything could have happened to her—er—if you follow me.'

  Clare didn't have to follow him, she was right there beside him. Since he had for years now sheltered and protected her, it came as second nature to him, and with her not being there his kindness had extended to cover Sophronia.

  `She was sitting in the pitch dark and would say very little, though it was a relief to discover she could speak English. I asked her if I could escort her home, but she then became semi-hysterical, so knowing how the Greeks think of their women's virtue—Pete Nolan warned me to be careful before I came away—God, how I wish I'd taken his advice!—anyway, with her getting hysterical at the thought of going home, I thought the worst had happened to her.'

  `That she'd been attacked,' Clare said quietly.

  Kit nodded, then hurriedly skated over that to continue, `I wasn't sure what to do for the best then, but decided her family probably wouldn't want the police involved, so I just sat talking to her, trying to calm her down. I told her anything that came into my head —that I was on holiday, about Mum and Dad, my home in England, Bruce, my job, and about you. Oh, how I wish I'd kept silent about you! ' he broke off to say with feeling. `Anyway, she seemed to grow less hysterical when I told her about my sister, so I talked on and on about you, thinking it would give her confidence in me to know how much we cherish you. I sought to give her the idea that if we cared so much for our Clare it was highly unlikely I would harm any girl in any way.'

  Clare felt tears prick her eyes. 'So you eventually gained her confidence?'

  'Yes, after what seemed hours. Anyway, I tentatively suggested again that she went home. But that seemed to undo all the good work I'd done. Well, we couldn't sit out there all night if what I thought had happened to her proved the case, so I thought I'd better do something about getting her medical attention. There was a phone in the flat, plus a bottle of brandy I'd bought that morning to take home to Dad. She seemed to like the idea of going back to the flat better than going home anyway. And once there I could see she hadn't been beaten up the way you had been and I was relieved about that, revising my opinion that somebody had set about her. But she was still in a state, so after asking her age and being told she was eighteen, I cracked the brandy open, then chatted to her some more, and eventually she grew calm enough for me to again suggest she went home. She wouldn't let me go with her, but used the phone to ring for a taxi.'

  'And that was the end of it as far as you thought.'

  'Right. I went back to the flat after seeing her into the taxi, took another swig of brandy, telling myself I'd get Dad another bottle, and went to bed. Then the next thing I know it's three o'clock in the morning and two heavies are tipping me out of bed, packing my gear and dumping me on a boat.'

  'You told Lazar all this?' asked Clare.

  'In between his interruptions—yes. I soft-pedalled on the bits about you. But I got the shock of my life when he laid into Sophronia—strewth, what a temper he's got! —and he let out that he knew all about you. I couldn't believe you'd told him, we'd never been able to get you to say anything to us about that night.' There was a question in Kit's voice. Clearly he wanted to know how a stranger to the family had got her to unlock that dark door. But Clare was much more interested to know how it had come about that Lazar had lost his temper with Sophronia to answer that unvoiced question.

  'You say Lazar laid into Sophronia?'

  'And how!' Kit replied. 'That was the first indication I had that I wasn't going to end up looking like a road traffic accident. She never said a word all the time
I'd been telling my side of it, just sat there with a sulky expression on her face. Aeneas was in the room too, but he'd kept quiet and left all the talking to his elder brother. Then when I'd finished speaking, Lazar asked me if I would swear all I had said was true, and I said, "On Clare's life if need be", then without a word he turned to Sophronia and asked what she had to say.' 'And,' Clare prompted, wanting to know how it had all been resolved, 'What did Sophronia say?'

  'At first, nothing. Her sulky expression had by this time changed to one of mulishness and I thought then she looked so stubborn he would never get her to change her story. But, quietly to start with, he asked her if she still maintained it had all happened as she had told her father. She didn't speak then, but just nodded her head. Then quietly again he asked her if she didn't think in that case that I should be punished. I don't mind telling you, Clare, I had visions of being set upon and swallowed hard a couple of times before she raised her head and looked about to protest. But nothing came of it and she kept dumb.'