Dark Apollo

by Sara Craven

  The room was cool and shady, the shutters closed, and the thin tan-coloured drapes drawn too. Camilla reluctantly lifted the empty cases on to one of the beds. She hadn't bargained for packing up so soon. But then, if she was honest, she hadn't envisaged anything that had befallen her on Karthos so far. Anything— or anyone.

  The image of Nic Xandreou rose in her mind so clearly and sharply that he might have been there, standing in the small shadowy room beside her. So near that she had only to turn to touch him—to feel the warmth of his skin under her hand...

  She felt her whole body clench in a sudden shock of sheer yearning, and stopped, ap­palled at herself. What was the matter with her? How could she let her mind stray like this, in directions which should have been—and had to be—strictly taboo?

  Just remember, she adjured herself savagely, that you're not alone. Exactly the same fan­tasies are probably being indulged in Athens and New York at this very moment—and they're only the ones you know about.

  Xandreou's women, she thought with con­tempt, marching into the little shower-room, and turning on the water. She needed to coo! off. To remember her pride and wash Nic Xandreou out of her mind and senses, she thought as she pulled off her clothes and stepped under the shower, lifting her face to the full force of the water.

  She felt refreshed and more in control of her errant senses when she emerged, the envel­oping towel anchored sarong-like just above her breasts, her hair hanging damply to her shoulders.

  The rap on the bedroom door startled her. Katie was back sooner than she'd suspected. Judging by the way they'd had their heads together, she'd imagined that her sister and Arianna were on the beach for the duration, she thought drily as she opened the door.

  But the smile died on her lips when she saw who was standing there.

  It was Maria's nephew, the one who waited on tables. But out of uniform now—and out for mischief, her brain telegraphed the swift warning. The smile that slid over her was knowing—insolent, and she wished to God she were wearing more than just a wet towel.

  She said curtly, 'Yes? What do you want?'

  'I came to visit you, thespinis.' He peered past her. 'You are alone?'

  'Yes, and I don't want company.' She tried to push the door shut, but he was too quick for her, shouldering his way into the room.

  'Unless it's Nic Xandreou, ne? Tomorrow you go_ to him—live in his house—sleep in his bed. You thought no one would know?' The smile became a leer as he studied her shocked expression. 'Xandreou himself has told Kostas Fhilippides that you are leaving, and where you go.’ His voice became insinuating. 'You should thank me, thespinis,, for telling you where to find him.'

  'You've already been thanked.’ She was frightened now, but determined not to show it. 'Now get out before I tell your aunt.’

  'You think she cares?’ He laughed. 'She knows what you are. A little English whore to warm Xandreou's bed. But he is not the only man on Karthos.’ He took a step nearer, the dark eyes hot and greedy on her bare shoulders and the first swell of her breasts above the towel. 'Who would know if I also tasted the honey Xandreou has chosen for himself?'

  'I would know.’ Nic Xandreou's voice was icily grim as he appeared with devastating sud­denness in the doorway behind them. 'And also how to punish such a thief.’

  'Kyrios Nicos.’ The young Greek's swarthy skin was tinged with grey, and his tongue ran round his lips. ‘I—I meant nothing. It was a joke…’ He slid out into the passage, almost flattening himself into invisibility in his eagerness to escape.

  Nic Xandreou followed, and Camilla heard the sound of a scuffle, a thud and a yelp of pain before he returned, rubbing his knuckles.

  'You—hit him?' Camilla asked faintly.

  Nic shrugged. 'He has a sore mouth,' he countered flatly. 'He will think before using it to insult another woman.’

  'But nothing actually happened,' she pro­tested, relief warring with mortification inside her.

  'No thanks to you.’ He looked her over, his brows snapping together ominously. 'Are you quite mad to permit such a one as that to enter your room—when you're unclothed? Or perhaps he was welcome.’ His voice hardened. 'Maybe my own arrival was the real intrusion.’

  'How dare you?' Camilla flared. 'You know that isn't true.’

  'What do I know?' The dark eyes glittered at her as he put a wry hand to his cheek. 'You did not offer him the treatment you gaye me.’

  'I didn't get the chance,’ Camilla said crossly. 'And I thought it was Katie at the door, or I'd never have opened it. I never dreamed it would be him—or that he'd think…’ She halted, aware that she was blushing. 'Well, you heard him.'

  4Yes.' He was silent for a moment. That was why I came back—to tell you that it might not be safe for you to remain here tonight. That there might be some form of harassment.’

  'What made you think that?'

  His mouth twisted. 'An absurdity. I thought—it was almost as if I heard you call out—cry for help.’

  You did, Camilla thought with horror as she remembered how she'd conjured up his image, here in this room. But not in fear? she mused with a shiver.

  'So I thought it best to return,' he went on. He gestured brusquely at the cases. 'Pack your things, thespinis, and come with me now. You cannot stay here any longer.’

  She gasped. 'I'll have to fetch Katie. She's on the beach,' she added with a certain con­straint, not wishing to mention Arianna's presence there too. Nic Xandreou would not approve of this newly hatched intimacy, she thought.

  He frowned again. ‘I will send Kostas to find her. And tell him too it is time he controlled his wife's relations, and became master in his own house,’ he added harshly.

  Camilla drew a breath. 'Isn't that rather a chauvinist viewpoint?'

  'You can ask that—after what you have just experienced here?' His voice was hard.

  ‘I’d say it in any circumstances,’ Camilla hit back. 'And you don't seem to impose too many limitations on your own conduct,’ she added shakily. 'It's thanks to you we're in this mess, after all. If you hadn't been so high-handed— and—mauled me in front of Maria, we'd be staying here. Instead we're moving to accom­modation that belongs to you, and people will draw the obvious conclusion.’

  'You will be there for a little less than two weeks,’ he said tersely. 'Is that really so great a hardship?'

  'Yes, it is.’ She glared at him. 'When I know I'm going to be regarded as just another in a long line of—willing women,’ she added bitterly.

  Nic Xandreou took a swift harsh breath. 'No one,’ he said. 'No one has ever dared speak to me as you do.’

  'Then it's time someone did,’ Camilla lifted her chin. 'Full time someone told you how-arrogant and unfeeling you are,’ she added passionately, and burst, to her own conster­nation, into overwrought tears.

  Nic Xandreou muttered some expletive half under his breath. Camilla found herself guided to the nearest bed, and seated on its edge, a handful of tissues from a box beside the bed pushed into her hand. Discovered, too, that her head was pressed against his shoulder, while his hand gently stroked her damp hair, and he murmured quietly and soothingly to her in his own language.

  Self-consciously she drew away, scrubbing her face with the tissues. She mumbled, 'I'm sorry.'

  'And I too regret—more than you can im­agine,’ he said with a touch of grimness. He put a hand under her chin, and lowered his mouth to hers. His lips were warm, almost gentle, but their touch was sensuous, bringing every pulse, every nerve-ending in her body to throbbing urgent life.

  When he put her away from him, she could have cried out in disappointment. She stared up at him, watching his mouth slant in sar­donic acknowledgement.

  'Young Stavros was right,’ he said. 'You are honey, agape mou. Honey and wine, and ripe, sweet fruit. All the things to tempt a man.' His fingers feathered delicately over her bare shoulder, and came to rest a brief millimetre away from the curve of her breast. ‘But I,’ he went on softly, 'am not in the m
arket for such temptation. Especially as in two weeks you will be gone forever. I hope that reassures you.'

  He kissed her again, the caress swift, hard, and carrying a kind of strange finality. Then he got up and went to the door.

  Camilla watched it close behind him. Her skin was tingling where his hand had rested, and it hurt suddenly to breathe. It hurt...

  I have to dress, she thought, swallowing past the pain. And I have to pack. Before he re­turns, and I have to go with him.

  'Xandreou's woman'. That was what they would all think—all say as she left. It was a label which would haunt her until she left Karthos, and perhaps beyond.

  And it isn't even true, she thought sav­agely—and was suddenly aware, with a shame that scorched her, that Nic Xandreou was not the only one with regrets.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was late afternoon when they arrived at the sea house. It had been a largely silent journey. Camilla, huddled on her side of the Jeep, had tried to concentrate on the scenery, which was spectacular enough to warrant it, and not Nic Xandreou's profile, which she found even more disturbing. And Katie was equally quiet, lost in her own thoughts.

  Her first meeting with Nic had been formal on his side and composed on hers. She'd shown little of the hurt and indignation she must be feeling, and Camilla had felt both surprised and proud at her forbearance, and the maturity of her reaction.

  On one side of the narrow pot-holed road, hillside covered in scrub soared upwards towards the unclouded arc of the sky to become, in time, a tall bleached mountain, all jagged silver and violet peaks and deep agate corries. High above them a solitary bird hovered, motionless and predatory.

  On the other side, there was an almost sheer drop to the sea, sparkling like a brazen mirror under the sinking sun.

  It seemed very remote, but wasn't that the idea? she thought bitterly. They were to be hidden away in this inaccessible place, and forgotten there until their money ran out and they were forced to leave.

  Money, she thought with a stifled gasp of distress. In the scramble to be ready she'd for­gotten to get the money for their room back from Kostas.

  'There is something wrong?'

  He didn't miss a thing.

  She hunched a shoulder. 'No.' He was the last person in the world who needed to know they had a cash shortage. That would be playing right into his hands. 'It's just—very beautiful,' she added, gesturing around her.

  He nodded. 'Every man sees his island as the loveliest place on earth. I only wish I could spend more time here, but our business in­terests are worldwide and expanding.’

  He said it quite casually. Money, and the power it bestowed, were things lie took for granted. And with so much under his control, the destinies of two young lovers would seem an annoying triviality to be disposed of be­tween one deal and the next. Spiro's and Katie's happiness wouldn't feature on any of Nic Xandreou's balance sheets.

  That was something she needed to re­member—to build up the flame of her anger and resentment against him, and keep it burning. She couldn't afford any more weakness where he was concerned. No more aching yearning to feel his mouth exploring hers, or his hands spinning a web of sensual delight on her skin.

  The kind of spell he knew so well how to weave. The way he'd enthralled other fools.

  But not me, she vowed with passion. Never again.

  The Jeep swung off the road, and began to wind its way down a track so narrow that the shrubs and bushes which bordered it reached out to brush the sides of the vehicle. Pollen, heavy and golden, showered down on to Camilla's bare knee.

  The Jeep turned a comer, and there in front of them, occupying its own headland, was the sea house. It was small by the standards of the Villa Apollo—single-storey, and roofed in faded terracotta tiles, their colour repeated in the shutters that hid the windows—and sur­rounded by a tangle of overgrown garden.

  Camilla thought, It looks lonely, and in­stantly derided herself for being sentimental. Of course it was lonely—that was the whole point. They were being dumped in the back of beyond for the duration. She hadn't seen another hamlet, let alone a village within walking distance, during the entire journey.

  Soula was waiting at the entrance as Nic brought the Jeep to a halt. She was small and plump, clad in the inevitable black dress and headscarf, but her wrinkled face was wreathed in smiles, as she took Camilla's hand in both of hers.

  'Welcome,' she said. 'You are welcome, Kyria Camilla, and you too, Kyria Catherine.’

  'I'm afraid we're causing a great deal of trouble,' Camilla said haltingly as Nic, his face set, unloaded their cases.

  'No problem.' Soula gave a gusty sigh. 'At last life returns to this place.' She took both girls by the hand, tugging them forward. 'Come look.'

  The house had been designed, Camilla realised, to capitalise on the views of the sea. Each room had its own superb vista, and the windows stood open to catch the breeze from the water, and the soft murmur of the waves.

  A terrace had been built along the entire length of the house, overlooking the water, and from this a flight of steps led down, Soula told them, to a cove with a small sandy beach.

  'Very private for the sun,’ she added. 'Also good for swimming.'

  The ulterior of the house was like walking straight into the heart of the sun. The floors were tiled in deep amber, the walls colour­washed in a paler shade of the same colour. The main living area was equipped with a sofa and several armchairs covered in a vibrant geo­metric print in shades of blue, gold and rust, with a separate raised dining area.

  The room to which Camilla was shown opened directly on to the terrace, and was the largest of the bedrooms. She looked around slowly, assimilating the patina of the wood of the built-in furniture, and the enormous wall-hanging in rich earthy shades of bronze, copper and gold which supplied a dramatic background to the wide bed with its linen the colour of warm cieam.

  'You like?' Soula demanded anxiously.

  ‘Like’was hardly the word, Camilla thought, drawing a breath. She said, 'It's—magnificent.’

  Soula nodded her satisfaction, missing the touch of uncertainty in Camilla's voice. 'I bring you coffee,’ she said. 'Kyria Catherine will rest until dinner. She has a little headache, I think.'

  No, Camilla thought with an inward sigh. She has one enormous headache, which I share.

  This had to be the master bedroom, she told herself tautly, when she was alone. This was where Nic Xandreou had brought his bride. And in that bed he'd made her his wife.

  For a moment her mind ran riot, then she closed off the clamorous, disturbing images, her nails scoring the soft palms of her hands. Well, she couldn't—wouldn't sleep there. She'd swap with Katie, on whom all the implications of the room would be lost.

  She felt stifled suddenly, and headed for the windows, pushing open the shutters as she sought the fresh air of the terrace.

  But under the heavy canopy of bougain­villaea she paused.

  Because he was there, she realised tautly, seated on the low parapet, Ms figure darkly sil­houetted against the glitter of the sea, as he stared out at the horizon.

  As if some silent signal had alerted him to her presence, he turned his head and looked at her, his expression starkly, almost bitterly arrested.

  She knew of course what he must be seeing— another girl emerging from the room they had once shared, standing for a moment, framed by flowers. That girl would have smiled, evoking memories of the night that had just passed, promising more pleasure to come. She would have held out her hands—walked across the terrace, and into his arms.

  They said time healed, she thought, but judging by his face Nic Xandreou's be­reavement must have inflicted a wound as deep as the whispering sea around them.

  She moved hurriedly away from the bedroom window, and its connotations, forcing a smile, hastening into speech to conceal her own sudden pain.

  'I can see why it's called the sea house.’

  He nodded. 'My father built it. He loved t
he sea, and always kept a caique moored in the cove below. Later, when Arianna and Spiro were born, he sold our house in Karthos town, and started on the Villa Apollo. But this place was always a refuge for him—for all of us.' His fleeting smile mocked her. 'Quite separate from the main house.' He pointed across the small bay to the adjoining headland and to where the sun highlighted white walls amid a cluster of encircling greenery. 'Which is there.'

  'So close?' Camilla was taken aback. 'I—I didn't realise.'

  ‘But only by sea,’ he said. ‘There is no direct road between the two properties. One must go a considerable way inland, as you must have realised, and this has proved an in­convenience—in the past.’ His brief pause told her the present was a different matter.

  He picked a loose stone off the parapet, and tossed it down into the rippling dark blue water. 'Spiro and I used to swim from one house to another,' he went on almost musingly. A faint smile twisted his mouth. 'How strong a swimmer are you, Camilla?’

  ‘Good enough,’ she said shortly. 'But not so expert as to risk that distance.'

  'I'm glad you are so conscious of your safety.’ His smile widened, mocking her. ‘It is always best, I think, to know one's limitations, and abide by them,' he added silkily.

  ‘Oh, I've got the picture.’ Camilla glanced round. 'Here we are, and here we'll stay. Isn't that it?'

  'You are hardly prisoners,’ he said sardoni­cally. 'You are free to leave whenever you wish.’

  'But on whose terms?' Camilla met his glance levelly.

  He laughed. 'Again, I am sure you have the picture.’ He paused. 'You should at least listen to my offer, Camilla. I am prepared to be generous - within reason.’

  Camilla shook her head. 'No deal.’

  ‘I am sure that is not your final word.’ Nic's voice was silky. fHere you will have leisure and tranquillity to think. And when you are ready to talk, you have only to let me know.’