Dark Apollo

by Sara Craven

  'The matter has been mentioned.’ The doc­tor's face was discreetly enigmatic.

  ‘Then we're very much at your mercy. Please—how long will it be before Spiro re­members things again?'

  He shook his head. 'You ask me something I cannot answer. Sometimes the condition changes slowly. In other cases, a jog to the memory can restore it suddenly and com­pletely.’ He sighed. 'But Spiro fights his con­dition. It frightens him to realise that much of his past has become a blank, and this increases his confusion.’

  Camilla grimaced. 'Then my visit yesterday really didn't help. I wish I'd been told what was wrong.’

  'The family does not wish his condition gen­erally known. This is a small island with simple people. A broken leg is understood, something in the mind less so.'

  Camilla nodded. 'You mentioned a jog to his memory. Do you think, maybe, seeing my sister again could be just the jolt he needs?’

  Petros's face sobered. 'It is certainly possible,’ he said, after a pause.

  'Then can you arrange it?'

  He spread his hands in apology. 'I regret it is not permitted. Nic—Kyrios Xandreou—has given orders that neither you nor your sister is to be admitted to the villa, or allowed to see Spiro. I'm sorry.'

  'Oh, God.' Camilla, speaking through gritted teeth, hardly recognised her own voice. 'The bastard.'

  She remembered the searing pressure of his mouth on hers and thought, Judas.

  Petros looked shocked. 'You must not say such a thing, thespinis. You do not under­stand. Since Nic was quite young, he has had to be the patriarch to his family, and it has not been easy. He seeks only to protect them.' He paused, looking uncomfortable. 'Perhaps to keep them from mistakes that he knows will only lead to great unhappiness.’

  'I'm sure the mighty Xandreou has never put a foot wrong in his life,’ Camilla said bit­terly. 'He's the golden boy through and through.’

  The doctor shook his head. 'Not always, thespinis,' he corrected gently. 'The loss of his parents—then his marriage, and the death of his wife—all these were tragedies for him. And they have left their mark, I think.’

  Camilla gasped. 'He's a widower?' she asked huskily. It was the last thing she'd expected to hear. She bit her lip, remembering how she'd accused him of being without a heart—without feeling. Clearly that had not been true—once. But surely it should make him more under­standing of Katie and Spiro...

  She said, 'Couldn't you talk to him—from a medical point of view? Convince him that letting Katie see Spiro would be worth trying at least?'

  'I can try,’ he said. 'But I guarantee nothing. Nic is my friend—and a friend to everyone on Karthos.’ He gestured around him wryly. 'He provided this clinic at his own expense. But, like his father and grandfather before him, he is an autocrat. His word has always been law, and he expects no argument with his decisions.’

  Camilla got to her feet. 'Then perhaps it's time there was,’ she returned crisply.

  His brows rose. 'You are a brave woman, thespinis.' The internal telephone rang on his desk, and he lifted the receiver. As he listened, Camilla saw him begin to frown. He said something quietly in his own language, and rang off.

  He said, 'There is something I must see to, thespinis, if you'll excuse me.’ He paused, looking faintly embarrassed. £I hope I may you some coffee before you go?'

  'There's no need.' Camilla hesitated, glancing at her watch.

  'No, it is my pleasure. One moment only, please.'

  The door closed behind him.

  Camilla walked over to the window, and looked out. The sun-warmed scent of the roses, carried on the faint breeze, seemed to fill the room. Their fragrance and colour caught at her throat - lifted her heart.

  She thought, I was right to come here. He's made no promises, but at least he's held out a glimmer of hope.

  She heard the door behind her open again.

  She said, 1 can't tell you how grateful I am. I'm sure, between us, we can persuade Xandreou to change his mind.’

  ‘Such certainty, thespinis.' The silken mockery of an all too familiar voice assailed her ears. 'Now I wouldn't count on a thing.'

  For a moment, Camilla stood, frozen to the spot, then slowly she turned and looked across the shadows of the room to the tall man who stood by the doorway. Blocking, she realised, her means of retreat.

  ‘Kalimera,’ said Nic Xandreou, and smiled

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Camilla said, 'What are you doing here?'

  'I knew you were due to see Petros Deroulades here this morning.' The dark gaze went over her coolly, absorbing the pale blue button-through dress, as if its chain-store ori­gins were quite apparent to him. 'I thought perhaps we should talk—on neutral territory,'

  'And he just went along with it.’ she said bitterly.

  'You must not blame poor Petros,' he said. 'I have—a certain influence here.'

  'So he told me.' Camilla drew a breath. 'You're quite the philanthropist, Xandreou. Someone should have told you that charity begins at home.’

  'Which is exactly what I wish to discuss.' He moved to the desk and sat on the corner of it, lithe and relaxed. 'Won't you sit down again?'

  'I'll stay where I am,’ she said curtly. 'Are you telling me you're prepared to lift your em­bargo on Katie's visiting Spiro?'

  'No,’ he said. 'I'm sure you know better than that.'

  'Then there's no more to be said.' She walked past him to the door, head held high, and twisted the heavy carved handle with mounting frustration.

  He said, 'Save your energy, thespinis. There

  is a security device in operation.'

  So, for the moment she was trapped. The re­alisation dried her mouth. She looked at him lounging there, totally the master of the situ­ation, and anger shook her voice.

  'Will you let me out of here?'

  'When you have heard what I have to say.'

  'I'm not interested,' Camilla said huskily. 'Until your attitude changes over Katie, there is nothing to discuss.'

  'We will see.' The dark eyes were hooded, enigmatic. 'Where is your sister?'

  'At the hotel.' Camilla looked at her watch again. 'And she'll be wondering where I am.’

  His mouth twisted. 'I am sure she will have found entertainment.'

  'What do you mean by that?9

  'As you know. I saw her dancing last night.' His smile was edged. 'She seems to have an af­finity with my countrymen. An uninhibited performance.’

  'Then your brother must be a good teacher,’ she returned, refusing to take the obvious bait. 'He showed her all the steps in person.’ One mark to our side, she told herself silently as she saw his lips tighten.

  She hurried into speech. 'As a matter of interest, why was he working in that res­taurant? It seems an odd way for a future millionaire to earn a crust.’

  'You think a man should take his inheritance without effort—without responsibility?' His voice was suddenly harsh. 'That he should enjoy the fruits, and remain in ignorance of how the harvest has been grown?' He shook his head. 'No, Spiro will work, as I have done, in every branch of our business undertakings, and at every level, from the lowliest menial job to top administration.’ He paused. 'Good management comes from knowledge and understanding.’

  'Of which you have so much, of course.’ It nettled her that what he was saying made so much sense; that he was determined not to let Spiro degenerate into just another member of the idle rich. 'So Athens was just part of the menial phase.’

  'Yes, but don't pity him too much. There are worse jobs, I promise you,' he added sardonically.

  She could believe it, although for the life of her she couldn't imagine Nic Xandreou himself, in spite of his claims, waiting on tables, or emptying garbage. Someone would have been around to flatten his path, and make sure he didn't roughen his hands too much on his way to the boardroom.

  She found herself suddenly remembering those hands as they'd touched her. Powerful, she thought, and strong as steel, but the long finge
rs strangely sensitive.

  Her own were small and workmanlike, as they'd had to be. She found she was spreading them against the door behind her, as if seeking reassurance from its solidity and weight.

  She said, 'And your sister Arianna—will she take her turn as a chambermaid?’

  'No. For a woman, it is different.'

  She thought, Not where I come from.

  Aloud, she said, 'And I suppose you have a nice dynastic marriage worked out for her too.’ She shook her head. 'Don't you ever get tired of dominating people—controlling their lives?'

  He said tautly, 'I care for my family, thespinis. I am responsible for them, and for all those who depend on me. I cannot afford to become weary or indifferent to these responsibilities.’

  'And Arianna's just content to—go with the flow.’ Camilla found it hard to believe. She re­membered the petulance in the dark eyes, the sullen curve to the girl's mouth.

  'She knows where her duty lies,' he returned flatly. 'And so does Spiro. So, do not hope, or allow your sister to do so. She has no place in his life.’

  'And if Arianna were in the same situation Mr. Xandreou—what then?' she demanded.

  She looked at him, and he was darkness against the brilliance of the sun.

  He said softly, 'I would find the man, and kill him with my own hands.’

  The words died away, but their menace re­mained almost tangibly. It was suddenly dif­ficult to breathe. She needed air, and she ran, almost stumbling in her haste to the open glass doors and the escape they seemed to offer.

  But even that was an illusion. The garden was totally enclosed in its high walls.

  The heat beat down on her like a clenched fist. The scent of roses was almost over­powering, and the air was heavy with the hum of working bees, and the ceaseless rasp of unseen cicadas. She walked to the fountain, and let the cool water play on her wrists, as she strove to calm her errant pulses.

  This might have been a monastery once, she thought, her heart hammering unsteadily, but there'd been something altogether older and more primitive than Christianity in that room just then. And it was around her now, in this blazing sun, and bleached walls, reminding her that Greece was a country where once pagan gods had ruled with their own savage codes of blood and vengeance.

  She'd come to Karthos as a latter-day avenging Fury, but now the tables were turned, and in some strange way she was the quarry, not the pursuer.

  In one shady comer, she saw the spreading branches and glossy leaves of a laurel. Apollo's tree, she thought. Sacred to him because it was supposed to hold the spirit of a girl he'd loved—the river nymph Daphne who'd run from him, and turned herself to wood to escape capture.

  Had she hated him or simply been afraid of the power he exerted? Either way, Camilla could understand that kind of desperation. Because her own dark Apollo had followed her now, and was standing watching her, hands on hips. He was more formally dressed than she had ever seen him, but he'd discarded the jacket of his light suit, and the sleeves of his white shirt had been turned back to reveal his tanned forearms. His tie, too, had been loosened, as if he'd grown impatient with its constriction. As if the normal trappings of civilisation were only a veneer, easily discarded. As well they might be...

  His gaze was almost meditative, lingering on the loose waves of her chestnut hair, the quiver of her parted lips, and the thrust of her rounded breasts against the thin material of her dress. She was covered from throat to knee, but she might as well have been naked, she realized dazedly.

  She'd never been so physically aware of any man in her life before, or so helpless in con­trolling her own reactions. She was actually be­ginning to shake under the dark intensity of his eyes.

  The silence between them was charged— dangerous.

  She took a step back, and found herself caught fast, anchored to the spot by the trailing briar of a bush of deep crimson roses,

  ‘Oh, no.' She twisted, struggling to free herself, shying away with a yelp as Nic walked across to her. 'I can manage.’ Her voice sounded oddly breathless.

  'Keep still, and don't be a fool,' he cau­tioned sharply. ‘I don't need another torn garment of yours laid to my account.' With in­finite care, he detached her skirt from the clinging tendrils. 'Nor any further marks on your skin,' he added quietly.

  'Thank you.' Camilla swallowed, smoothing the snagged fabric over her thighs.

  'Parakalo.1 There was a note of veiled amusement in his voice. He leaned past her, deftly picking a rose, a folded bud of dark velvet, from the offending bush.

  'So soft, ne?’ His voice was almost teasing. 'So beautiful.' He brushed the dusky petals against her cheek. 'So exquisitely scented.’ The rose touched the corner of her startled mouth, forcing a gasp from her. 'But beware,’ he added silkily. 'Like a woman, this beauty hides sharp thorns.’

  He was altogether too close to her. She could almost feel the warmth of his body, as if he were touching her in earnest, drawing her against him, holding her near.

  Instead of just—stroking her with that damned flower. He was brushing it against the pulse in her throat now, and down to the demure rounded neckline of her dress. And down further to the first soft swell of her breasts...

  She could feel herself shivering suddenly, her nipples hardening in anticipation against the thin, revealing fabric.

  Oh, God, she thought. What am I doing? What's happening to me?

  He was playing some kind of game with her, and she knew it, even if she didn’t fully under­stand what it was. She was supposed to be the cool one, the girl who was practical and in charge, and she couldn't allow him to destroy her equilibrium like this.

  Because, like him, she was the head of her family, and she had to face Mm, challenge him on equal terms.

  She stepped away, deliberately out of range. 'Did you arrange this interview just to discuss horticulture?

  ‘Is that what we were doing? It was not my purpose—however enjoyable.’ He paused, the dark eyes glinting, letting her know he'd been well aware of her body's involuntary reaction to his teasing. He was still holding the rose, turning it slowly in his fingers. He said, 'I have a business proposition to put to you.'

  'Oh.’ Camilla stiffened. 'What kind of proposition?'

  'A financial deal. I realise on reflection that I was over-ready to dismiss your claims. But your appearance at my home took me by sur­prise, you understand.'

  "You thought Katie would just let Spiro vanish from her life?' she asked incredulously. 'That she'd make no effort to find him?'

  He shrugged. 'She would not be the first to find that a holiday amour can have—reper­cussions. She might have decided to cut her losses—put it down to experience.’

  "But it wasn't like that,’ she said desperately. She beat her clenched fist into the palm of her other hand. 'I wish Katie were here to convince you.’

  'It would prove nothing.’ He paused again. 'Would she have been so anxious to trace my brother, I wonder, if he'd been simply a waiter in a restaurant? If he hadn't told her that he was a Xandreou?'

  'She didn't believe his claims,’ she said wearily.

  'And now?'

  'Nothing has changed,’ Camilla hesitated. ‘I've mentioned nothing about you, Spiro, the villa—any of it.’

  'Why not?'

  'To protect her from the hurt of knowing she's not considered good enough for your family.’

  His mouth tightened. 'Do you have no man to speak for you?’ he asked. 'No father—no brothers?'

  'We're alone.’

  'Then any negotiation must be with you.’ He paused. 'I am prepared on certain conditions to settle a sum of money on your sister, which, suitably invested, will provide support for her child.

  Camilla tensed. 'Conditions?' she repeated. 'What conditions?'

  'They are simple,' he said. 'She will receive the money through an agreement drawn up by our respective lawyers only if she promises to leave Karthos immediately, and makes no at­tempt to contact Spiro in the future.�
��

  She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Nic Xandreou was proposing to write Katie out of Spiro's life, as if she were some unim­portant tax loss.

  She said, 'And if Spiro himself tries to contact her—when he recovers?'

  'He will not.’

  A few brief words, she thought shakily, to pass sentence of death on a love-affair.

  She said, too evenly, 'As simple as that.’

  'That's how it has to be,’ he said. 'Or no deal. I want the matter over, before more harm is done. And be thankful I offer this much,’ he added icily. 'I saw her last night at the Dionysius. If she behaved with equal freedom in Athens, Spiro may not be the only candidate for the fatherhood of her baby.’

  Camilla's face flamed. 'How dare you say such a thing?'

  'Because it's true,’ he flung back at her. 'She is no saint. Like all the rest, she comes to Greece looking for romance—a little ad­venture with a man. And you, Camilla, you are no different either.’

  He tossed the rose away from him suddenly, as if it had burned his hand. 'Let us speak the truth to each other—the truth our bodies have already uttered. If I wanted you, I could take you, and we both know it.’

  His words fell into a hot and stinging silence.

  The blood was pounding in Camilla's head. She drew back her arm, and slapped him hard across the face. His head fell back in shock, and he swore briefly and violently in Greek, as his hand went up to touch his bruised cheekbones.

  She saw anger and disbelief flare in his eyes, then he reached for her, and she dodged past him, and ran for the open glass doors.

  Although there was no sanctuary there in the locked and shadowed room, she thought, her heart pounding as she realised he was coming after her. No friendly laurel tree either to transform and protect her from his pursuit.

  But, like a small miracle, the office door was standing open. And there were people there— Petros Deroulades, and beside him Arianna Xandreou, their faces pictures of sheer astonishment.

  Camilla said breathlessly, 'Kalimera? and kept running.

  Her legs were still shaking under her when she arrived back at the hotel. Fortunately she'd managed to hail a cruising taxi just outside the clinic, and she huddled in its back seat, re­sisting the impulse to peer over her shoulder to see if Nic Xandreou was still chasing her.