by Nora Roberts
there if you need me for anything. Oh, there’s some marvelous wine in the cellar,” she added, and for the first time, the smile in her voice seemed genuine. “If you feel like a cozy evening—help yourself.”
“I appreciate it, Liz, but—”
“And don’t worry about me or any of us. Everything’s going to be fine. I just know it. Give Nick my love.”
“I will,” Morgan heard herself saying.
“I thought so. See you tomorrow.”
Smiling, Morgan replaced the receiver.
***
“And so,” Stephanos finished, lovingly stroking his moustache, “after several glasses of ouzo, Mikal became more expansive. The last two dates he gave me when our man joined the fishing expedition were the last week in February and the second week in March. That doesn’t include the evening we encountered Morgan James, or when you took the trip in his stead.”
Smiling, Nick flipped through the reports on his desk. “And from the end of February to the first week of April, he was in Rome. Even without my stroke of luck last night, that would have ruled him out. With the phone call I just got from Athens, I’d say we’ve eliminated him altogether from having any part in this. Now we know our man works alone. We move.”
“And you move with an easy heart?” Stephanos noted. “What did Athens say?”
“The investigation on that end is complete. He’s clean. His books, his records, his phone calls and correspondence. From this end, we know he hasn’t been on the island to take part in any of the runs.” Nick leaned back in his chair. “I have no doubt that since our man learned of the loss of his last shipment, he’ll make the trip tonight. He won’t want another to slip through his fingers.” He tapped idly on the papers that littered his desk. “Now that I have the information I’ve been waiting for, we won’t keep Athens waiting any longer. We’ll have him tonight.”
“You were out very late last night,” Stephanos commented, taking out an ugly pipe and filling it.
“Keeping tabs on me, Stephanos?” Nick inquired with a lift of brow. “I haven’t been twelve for a very long time.”
“You are in very good humor this morning.” He continued to fill his pipe, tapping the tobacco with patient care. “You haven’t been so for many days.”
“You should be glad my mood’s broken. But then, you’re used to my moods, aren’t you, old man?”
Stephanos shrugged in agreement or acceptance. “The American lady is fond of walking on the beach. Perhaps you encountered her last night?”
“You’re becoming entirely too wise in your old age, Stephanos.” Nick struck a match and held it over the bowl of the pipe.
“Not too old to recognize the look of a man satisfied with a night of pleasure,” Stephanos commented mildly and sucked to get flame. “A very beautiful lady. Very strong.”
Lighting a cigarette, Nick smiled at him. “So you’ve mentioned before. I’d noticed myself. Tell me, Stephanos, are you also not too old to have ideas about strong, beautiful ladies?”
Stephanos cackled. “Only the dead have no ideas about strong, beautiful ladies, Nicholas. I’m a long way from dead.”
Nick flashed him a grin. “Keep your distance, old man. She’s mine.”
“She is in love with you.”
The cigarette halted on its journey to Nick’s lips. His smiled faded. Stephanos stood grinning broadly as he was pierced with one of his friend’s lancing looks. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it is true, I’ve seen it.” He puffed enjoyably on his pipe. “It is often difficult to see what is standing before your eyes. How much longer is she alone?”
Nick brought his thoughts back and scowled at the papers on his desk. “I’m not certain. Another day or so at least, depending on Iona’s condition. In love with me,” he murmured and looked back at Stephanos.
He knew she was attracted, that she cared—perhaps too much for her own good. But in love with him. . . . He’d never allowed himself to consider the possibility.
“She will be alone tonight,” Stephanos continued blandly, appreciating Nick’s stunned look. “It wouldn’t do for her to wander from the villa.” He puffed a few moments in silence. “If all does not go smoothly, you would want her safely behind locked doors.”
“I’ve already spoken to her. She understands enough to listen and take care.” Nick shook his head. Today of all days he had to think clearly. “It’s time we invited Captain Tripolos in. Call Mitilini.”
***
Morgan enjoyed a late breakfast on the terrace and toyed with the idea of walking to the beach. He might come, she thought. I could phone and ask him to come. No, she decided, nibbling on her lip as she remembered all he had told her. If tonight is as important as he thinks, he needs to be left alone. I wish I knew more. I wish I knew what he was going to do. What if he gets hurt or . . . Morgan clamped down on the thought and wished it were tomorrow.
“Kyrios.” At the maid’s quiet summons, Morgan gasped and spun. “The captain from Mitilini is here to speak with you.”
“What?” Panic rose and Morgan swallowed it. If Nick had spoken to him, Tripolos would hardly be waiting to see her, she thought frantically. Perhaps Nick wasn’t ready yet. What could Tripolos possibly want with her?
“Tell him I’m out,” she decided quickly. “Tell him I’ve gone to the beach or the village.”
“Very good, kyrios.” The maid accepted her order without question, then watched as Morgan streaked from the terrace.
For the second time, Morgan climbed the steep cliff path. This time, she knew were she was going. She could see Tripolos’s official car parked at the villa’s entrance as she rounded the first bend. She increased her pace, running until she was certain she herself was out of view.
Her approach had been noticed, however. The wide doors of Nick’s villa opened before she reached the top step. Nick came out to meet her.
“Yiasou. You must be in amazing shape to take the hill at that speed.”
“Very funny,” she panted as she ran into his arms.
“Is it that you couldn’t keep away from me or is something wrong?” He held her close a moment, then drew her back just far enough to see her face. It was flushed with the run, but there was no fear in her eyes.
“Tripolos is at the villa.” Morgan pressed her hand to her heart and tried to catch her breath. “I slipped out the back because I didn’t know what I should say to him. Nicholas, I have to sit down. That’s a very steep hill.”
He was searching her face silently. Still struggling for her breath, Morgan tilted her head and returned the survey. She laughed and pushed the hair from her eyes. “Nicholas, why are you staring at me like that?”
“I’m trying to see what’s standing in front of my eyes.”
She laughed again. “Well, I am, you fool, but I’m going to collapse from exhaustion any minute.”
With a sudden grin, Nick swept her off her feet and into his arms. She circled his neck as his mouth came down on hers.
“What are you doing?” she asked, when he let her breathe again.
“Taking what’s mine.”
His lips came back to hers and lingered. Slowly, almost lazily, he began to tease her tongue with his until he felt her breath start to shudder into his mouth. He promised himself that when everything was over, he would kiss her again, just like this—luxuriously with the heat of the sun warming her skin. When the night’s work was finally over, he thought, and for a moment his lips were rough and urgent. Needs rushed through him almost painfully before he banked them.
“So . . .” He strolled into the house, still carrying her. “The captain came to see you. He’s very tenacious.”
Morgan took a deep breath to bring herself back from the power of the kiss. “You said you were going to speak with him today, but I didn’t know if you were ready. If you’d gotten the information you needed. And to confess and humiliate myself, I’m a coward. I didn’t want to face him again.”
“C
oward, Aphrodite? No, that’s something you’re not.” He laid his cheek against hers a moment, making her wonder what was going on in his head. “I called Mitilini,” he continued. “I left a message for Tripolos. After our talk, he should lose all interest in you.”
“I’ll be devastated.” He grinned and took her lips again. “Would you put me down? I can’t talk to you this way.”
“I’m enjoying it.” Ignoring her request, he continued into the salon. “Stephanos, I believe Morgan might like something cool. She had quite a run.”
“No, nothing really. Efxaristo.” Faintly embarrassed, she met Stephanos’s checkerboard grin. When he backed out of sight, she turned her head back to Nick. “If you know who the man is who’s running the smuggling, can’t you just tell Captain Tripolos and have him arrested?”
“It’s not that simple. We want to catch him when the cache is in his possession. There’s also the matter of cleaning up the place in the hills where he keeps his goods stored before he ships them on. That part,” he added with an absent interest, “I’ll leave to Tripolos.”
“Nicholas, what will you do?”
“What has to be done.”
“Nicholas—”
“Morgan,” he interrupted. Standing her on her feet, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “You don’t want a step-by-step description. Let me finish this without bringing you in any more than I already have.”
He lowered his mouth, taking hers with uncharacteristic gentleness. He brought her close, but softly, as if he held something precious. Morgan felt her bones turn to water.
“You have a knack for changing the subject,” she murmured.
“After tonight, it’s the only subject that’s going to interest me. Morgan—”
“A thousand pardons.” Stephanos hovered in the doorway. Nick looked up impatiently.
“Go away, old man.”
“Nicholas!” Morgan drew out of his arms, sending him a look of reproof. “Has he always been rude, Stephanos?”
“Alas, my lady, since he took his thumb out of his mouth.”
“Stephanos,” Nick began in warning, but Morgan gave a peal of laughter and kissed him.
“Captain Tripolos requests a few moments of your time, Mr. Gregoras,” Stephanos said, respectfully and grinned.
“Give me a moment, then send him in, and bring the files from the office.”
“Nicholas.” Morgan clung to his arm. “Let me stay with you. I won’t get in the way.”
“No.” His refusal was short and harsh. He saw the hurt flicker in her eyes and sighed. “Morgan, I can’t allow it even if I wanted to. This isn’t going to touch you. I can’t let it touch you. That’s important to me.”
“You’re not going to send me away,” she began heatedly.
He arched a brow and looked very cool. “I’m not under the same pressure I was last night, Morgan. And I will send you away.”
“I won’t go.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’ll do precisely what I say.”
“Like hell.”
Fury flickered, smoldered, then vanished in a laugh. “You’re an exasperating woman, Aphrodite. If I had the time, I’d beat you.” To prove his point, he drew her close and touched his lips to hers. “Since I don’t I’ll ask you to wait upstairs.”
“Since you ask.”
“Mr. Gregoras. Ah, Miss James.” Tripolos lumbered into the room. “How convenient. I was inquiring for Miss James at the Theoharis villa when your message reached me.”
“Miss James is leaving,” Nick told him. “I’m sure you’ll agree her presence isn’t necessary. Mr. Adonti from Athens has asked me to speak with you on a certain matter.”
“Adonti?” Tripolos repeated. Nick watched surprise and interest move across the pudgy face before his eyes became direct. “So, you are acquainted with Mr. Adonti’s organization?”
“Well acquainted,” Nick returned mildly. “We’ve had dealings over the years.”
“I see.” He studied Nick with a thoughtful purse of his lips. “And Miss James?”
“Miss James chose an inopportune time to visit friends,” Nick said and took her arm. “That’s all. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just see her out. Perhaps you’d care for a drink while you’re waiting.” With a gesture toward the bar, Nick drew Morgan out into the hall.
“He looked impressed with the name you just dropped.”
“Forget the name,” Nick told her briefly. “You’ve never heard it.”
“All right,” she said without hesitation.
“What have I done to deserve this trust you give me?” he demanded suddenly. “I’ve hurt you again and again. I couldn’t make up for it in a lifetime.”
“Nicholas—”
“No.” He cut her off with a shake of his head. In an uncharacteristic gesture of nerves or frustration, he dragged a hand through his hair. “There’s no time. Stephanos will show you upstairs.”
“As you wish,” Stephanos agreed from behind them. Handing Nick a folder, he turned to the stairs. “This way, my lady.”
Because Nick had already turned back to the salon, Morgan followed the old man without a word. She’d been given more time with him, she told herself. She couldn’t ask for any more than that.
Stephanos took her into a small sitting room off the master bedroom. “You’ll be comfortable here,” he told her. “I’ll bring you coffee.”
“No. No, thank you, Stephanos.” She stared at him, and for the second time he saw her heart in her eyes. “He’ll be all right, won’t he?”
He grinned at her so that his moustache quivered. “Can you doubt it?” he countered before he closed the door behind him.
Chapter 12
There was nothing more frustrating than waiting, Morgan decided after the first thirty minutes. Especially for someone who simply wasn’t made for sitting still.
The little room was shaped like a cozy box and done in warm, earthy colors with lots of polished wood that gleamed in the early afternoon light. It was filled with small treasures. Morgan sat down and scowled at a Dresden shepherdess. At another time she might have admired the flowing grace of the lines, the fragility. Now she could only think that she was of no more practical use than that pale piece of porcelain. She had, in a matter of speaking, been put on the shelf.
It was ridiculous for Nick to constantly try to . . . shield her. Morgan’s sigh was quick and impatient. Hadn’t that been Liz’s words when she had spoken of Alex’s actions? After all, Morgan thought as she rose again, she was hardly some trembling, fainting scatterbrain who couldn’t deal with whatever there was to face. She remembered trembling and fainting dead away in his arms. With a rueful smile, she paced to the window. Well, it wasn’t as though she made a habit of it.
In any case, her thoughts ran on, he should know that she would, and could, face anything now that they were together. If he understood how she felt about him, then . . . But did he? she thought abruptly. She’d shown him, certainly she’d shown him in every possible way open to her, but she hadn’t told him.
How can I? Morgan asked herself as she sunk into another chair. When a man had lived ten years of his life following his own rules, courting danger, looking for adventures, did he want to tie himself to a woman and accept the responsibilities of love?
He cared for her, Morgan reflected. Perhaps more than he was comfortable with. And he wanted her—more than any man had ever wanted her. But love . . . love wouldn’t come easily to a man like Nicholas. No, she wouldn’t pressure him with hers now. Even the unselfish offer of it would be pressure, she thought, when he had so much on his mind. She was only free to go on showing him, trusting him.
Even that seemed to throw him off-balance a bit, she mused, smiling a little. It was as if he couldn’t quite accept that someone could see him as he was, know the way he had lived and still give him trust. Morgan wondered if he would have been more comfortable if she had pulled back from him a little after the things he had told her. He would have understoo
d her condemnations more readily than her acceptance. Well, he’ll just have to get used to it, she decided. He’ll just have to get used to it because I’m not going to make it easy for him to back away.
Restless, she walked to the window. Here was a different view, Morgan thought, from one she so often looked out on from her bedroom window. Higher, more dangerous. More compelling, she thought with a quick thrill. The rocks seemed more jagged, the sea less tame. How it suited the man she’d given her heart to.
There was no terrace there, and suddenly wanting the air and