The Power of the Legendary Greek

He eyed her in silence for a moment. ‘Before you make your escape from the Villa Medusa, please indulge my curiosity. Tell me something about yourself. From your drawings, your interest obviously lies in art, Miss James.’

‘Yes. I have a Fine Art Degree.’

‘You teach?’

‘No. I manage an art gallery and live in the flat over it as part of a deal which includes putting my work on sale at the gallery, as well as the paintings I sell privately.’

‘You live near your family?’

Isobel looked down at the hands she’d folded in her lap. ‘No. My wonderful grandparents brought me up, but they’re dead now.’

Luke leaned forward slightly. ‘And your parents?’

‘I never knew them. They were killed in a motorway pileup in fog when I was a baby.’

‘That is a sad story,’ he said sombrely. ‘But you were fortunate to have grandparents who cared for you.’

‘True. They were the only parents I ever knew, and I couldn’t have wished for better. But, though I’m short on family, I’m blessed with very good friends,’ said Isobel, trying to ignore her headache. ‘In the past my holidays were spent with one of them but, since her marriage a couple of years ago, I travel alone.’

Luke got up. ‘Have you informed this friend of your accident?’

‘I saw no point in worrying her. I’ll be fine in a day or two.’

‘But you are not fine now. Your headache is bad again, yes?’ ‘Afraid so,’ she admitted.

He looked down at her, frowning. ‘I shall send Eleni to help you to bed.’ He held up a peremptory hand. ‘Yes, I know you can manage without her, but she insisted. Is there anything you would like her to bring you?’

Isobel smiled hopefully. ‘I would really love some tea.’

‘Of course. You shall have it immediately. Kalmychta—goodnight, Miss James.’

‘Goodnight, Mr Andreadis.’

Isobel was very thoughtful after he’d gone, wondering why he’d asked so many questions. It made her doubly wary of Lukas Andreadis, mainly because her current opinion of his sex was at an all-time low. But, looked at objectively, from an artistic point of view he was a formidable specimen, with the physique and sculpted features of the Greek statues she’d studied in college. Though more like the Renaissance muscular versions than the androgynous Apollo Belvedere of Ancient Greece. Similar curls, maybe, but Luke Andreadis was very obviously all male, his impressive build a definite plus when it came to carrying her about. His one concession to vanity seemed to be the hair he grew long enough to brush his collar. But she would have expected those curls of his to be black, like his eyes. Instead, they were bronze with lighter streaks, courtesy of the sun. Her mouth tightened. Goodlooking he might be, but when she’d first seen him, down on his precious private beach, he’d been so menacing he’d frightened her to death.

Isobel took more painkillers with the tea Eleni brought her, then submitted to her yoghurt beauty treatment and let the kind little woman help her to bed. Isobel thanked Eleni warmly, wished her goodnight, and then settled down against banked pillows and, though fully expecting to lie awake for hours with her aches and pains for company, eventually drifted off into healing, dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER THREE

LUKE ANDREADIS asked Eleni to take tea up to their guest, then went to his room, but felt too restless for sleep. He made for his balcony with a glass of brandy and leaned against the rail, breathing in the heady nocturnal scents of the garden. After the punishing campaign of the past few weeks he felt anti-climactic, already missing the adrenaline rush of corporate battle. His mouth curled in grim triumph as he relived the victory over Melina Andreadis. She must be incandescent with fury now she no longer controlled the airline acquired by the husband who had once given it to his demanding second wife as if it were a toy to play with. But now, Luke thought triumphantly, she had been rendered powerless. Her ties with the airline had been severed without mercy by the grandson Theo Andreadis refused to acknowledge.

Luke raised his glass to the stars in exultation at the memory of Melina’s fury, of her ageing face, scarlet and suffused with rage. It had been worth every minute of his years of hard, unending work just to see the harpy’s face when the vote went against her. Whoever said revenge was a dish best served cold was right on target. His long fight to wreak revenge on Melina had left little room in his life for personal relationships. But this mattered very little to him now he had finally exacted his revenge. His only sorrow was that his mother had not lived to share in his triumph. His face set in implacable lines. That she was not was another sin to lay at his grandfather’s door. Theo Andreadis had brought up his motherless daughter so strictly her eventual rebellion had been inevitable. The discovery that she was pregnant had enraged her father so much he’d thrown her out on the street. The desperate girl had fled from Athens to take refuge with her old nurse on Chyros, where Olympia Andreadis, daughter of one of the richest men in Greece, had supported herself by working in the kitchen of the taverna owned by Basil Nicolaides, father of the present owner, Nikos.

Luke’s eyes darkened at the thought of his frail, pretty mother, who had escaped from her home in Athens with only the jewels inherited from her mother. These had provided savings hoarded zealously for her child as he grew into a clever, determined boy who soon outstripped his peers academically at school. Young Lukas absorbed knowledge like a sponge and, with the help of a young, enthusiastic teacher early on, became fluent in English, which added to his prowess in all the other subjects on the school curriculum. Fuelled by determination to help his mother, he did odd jobs after school at the taverna to earn money, and at weekends, much to Olympia’s disapproval, went out with the local fishermen for the same purpose. He would have done anything to protect his mother from the blandishments of Costas Petrides, the wealthiest man on the island. Costas had been so eager to marry the exquisite, cultured Olympia he had even professed willingness to take her illegitimate son as part of the deal. But she had politely and relentlessly refused, secure in the protection of Spiro, son of her old nurse, and the support of Basil Nicolaides and his son Nikos, who jointly managed the taverna. But Luke well knew that to this day Costas blamed Olympia’s son for her refusal of such a good catch for a husband.

Luke grew up in a home where there was much love, but very little money. As he grew to adulthood he became consumed with the desire to keep his mother in luxury for the rest of her days, to repay Spiro and the Nikolaides family for their kindness, and eventually to wreak merciless revenge on those responsible for his mother’s situation, with Melina Andreadis at the top of his hit list.

And he had succeeded. He had rendered Melina powerless with the best weapon of all, the loss of backing from her own board. He smiled with grim satisfaction at the memory of her raging, impotent fury as the vote went against her. For a moment it had seemed likely she would attack him with her own red-taloned fingers as the truth struck home that she was powerless to fight against fate when the airline was torn from her grasp. And now Lukas Andreadis was the power behind Air Chyros, the new name he’d given his grandfather’s airline. In the future, instead of making money with as many cheap flights as possible under the grasping Melina’s aegis, it would be run with the emphasis on safety, reliability and luxury, the key elements Air Chyros would be offering once the new planes were in operation.

Luke drank down the last of his brandy and turned back into his room, wincing as the odd muscle protested. He smiled a little. He prided himself on his fitness, which he swam daily to maintain, but it wasn’t every day he was required to rescue a damsel in distress. A very appealing damsel, he admitted, though tumbling blonde curls and big blue eyes were not female assets which normally appealed to him. He liked his women dark, with fiery temperaments and ample curves—he laughed shortly, giving thanks to the gods that he hadn’t been obliged to carry a woman of that description about, or he might have had more than just a sore muscle or two to complain about. But, even though Miss Isobel James looked the picture of innocence, he still harboured doubts about her reasons for her presence on his beach this morning. Yet her stoicism and independence—and the feel of her slender body in his arms—appealed strongly to him. While she, very obviously, was finding it difficult to be grateful to a man she regarded with suspicion, even dislike. A new experience for him where women were concerned. He smiled slowly. Now he was here for a few days it would be diverting to see how quickly he could break down the barrier she’d erected against him. He must think up ways of keeping her here until he achieved his usual success. His mouth twisted in self-derision as he realised that a great part of the lady’s attraction was her immunity to his own—a challenge impossible to resist.

Blissfully unaware of her host’s plans for her immediate future, Isobel woke early again next morning and for a moment gazed blankly round the unfamiliar room until a glance at the crutch leaning against the foot of the bed brought the events of the previous day rushing back. She lay quiet for a while as she reviewed them, amazed that she’d survived the night without one of the nightmares afflicting her lately. Perhaps she was cured of them at last. She was so comfortable she was reluctant to move, but at last she had no choice. With a sigh Isobel sat up, carefully manoeuvred herself to the edge of the bed, reached for the crutch and put her good foot to the floor. Twenty minutes later she was sitting by the open veranda doors, hair combed, teeth brushed, face clean and painkillers washed down with fruit juice. And, though both ankle and head were still making their presence felt, the discomfort was bearable enough to confirm that once she transferred to the cottage she would be able to manage perfectly well on her own.

She looked up with a smile as Eleni appeared with a breakfast tray. ‘Good morning.’

The little woman returned the smile shyly. ‘Kalimera. How you feel today, Isobel?’

‘Much better,’ Isobel assured her. ‘Thank you, Eleni. You’re a star.’

Eleni carried the tray out on to the veranda, leaving the doors open wide for Isobel. ‘Eat well,’ she commanded, and left Isobel to the pleasure of breakfast in the fresh air of a Chyros morning.

Thankful to find her nausea gone, Isobel ate one of the sweet rolls and finished off the tea, looking down in longing through the balcony rails at the pool. She sucked in a sudden breath. A bronzed body had appeared in the water, cutting through it like some exotic sea creature as Lukas swam laps of his pool at a speed that tired Isobel to watch. At last he heaved himself out of the water to stand with arms outstretched and face upturned to the sun for a minute or two before he wrapped his spectacular body in a towelling robe.

Isobel let out the breath she hadn’t even known she was holding, wondering how to get herself off the balcony without attracting his attention. But before she could move he turned, gave her a mocking bow and strolled into the house.

Face flaming, Isobel did her Long John Silver act back into the bedroom to strip off her dressing gown. Time she moved out. She collected some clothes and a polythene bag used to pack shoes, and then went into the bathroom for a sponge down. It was a messy, unsatisfactory process, but she managed it without wetting the bandage on her ankle, and felt absurdly pleased with herself when it was over. She slapped on some body lotion, struggled into her underwear, then pulled on a favourite comfortable yellow T-shirt dress and, with the help of the crutch, made it back into the bedroom just as Eleni hurried in.

‘I came to help,’ said the woman reproachfully.

Isobel smiled in apology. ‘I had to see if I could manage on my own. I really must leave today and go back to the cottage. I’m afraid I used rather a lot of towels.’

The woman shrugged this off as unimportant, and went into the bathroom to collect them. ‘You sit still now. I bring coffee,’ she said firmly, and took the damp bundle away.

Isobel did her sitting still on the balcony, determined not to remain in the vicinity of Lukas Andreadis a moment longer than necessary. When Eleni came back with the coffee she would request a visit from the master of the house, preferably when he was fully clothed, and ask him for a lift down to the cottage. After that she need never see him again. Which would be good because she found his presence disturbing. For one thing, he was a man, and for another she was sure he still believed she’d been up to no good when she invaded his precious beach. While all she wanted from him was a lift back to the cottage so she could enjoy the rest of her holiday alone, in the peace she’d come all this way to find.

When she called in answer to a knock on the bedroom door she heard the slight rattling of a tray and sniffed the enticing scent of freshly made coffee. But, instead of Eleni, it was Luke Andreadis, casual in jeans and T-shirt, who came out onto the veranda to put a tray down on the table.

‘Kalimera,’ he greeted her. ‘May I join you?’

‘Of course,’ she said, hiding her dismay. ‘Good morning.’

‘How are you today?’

‘Much better.’

‘Eleni tells me you did not wait for her to help you dress,’ he said casually.

‘I had to try to manage on my own.’

Luke handed her a cup of coffee, then pulled a chair up to the table. ‘I trust,’ he said, eyeing her ankle, ‘that your bandage is still dry?’

‘I wrapped my foot in a plastic bag.’ She smiled politely. ‘I’m self-sufficient now. So if you’d be kind enough to drive me down to the cottage this morning I’ll leave you in peace.’

He shook his damp head. ‘Not this morning.’

Isobel’s heart sank. ‘This afternoon, then?’

‘Before you can stay there alone, food must be bought for you.’

‘I’ll give you money for Eleni,’ she said promptly.

‘Also,’ he went on, brushing that aside, ‘I must inspect the place for myself first, to check its suitability for your injury.’

Her chin lifted. ‘There’s absolutely no need for you to trouble yourself, Mr Andreadis,’ she said flatly. ‘If I can manage here, I can manage there.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Also cook for yourself?’

‘With a supply of salad vegetables, and bread and cheese, I shan’t need to cook for myself for a day or two. And by then I’ll be good on both feet,’ she assured him, resenting his tone.

‘If you will give me your key I shall go down to the cottage soon,’ said Luke. ‘And then we shall see.’

Isobel sighed, frustrated. ‘If you must. Though I thought you’d be only too pleased to get rid of me.’

His smile set off alarm bells in her head. ‘As I told you, Miss James, we revere the traveller here in Greece.’

‘You were anything but reverent when you found this one on your beach!’

‘Only because I misunderstood the reason for your presence.’ And strongly doubted her story of the Jet Ski. His eyes darkened. ‘It is by no means unusual for journalists of both sexes to invade my beach, nor for young women to arrange to be stranded there.’

‘In the hope that you’ll come to the rescue?’

‘Their hopes are usually higher—or lower—than that,’ he said, his mouth twisting in distaste. ‘I do not,’ he added sardonically, ‘delude myself that they are attracted to me in person. Only to my money.’

‘And the power you used to amass it. Isn’t power supposed to be the ultimate aphrodisiac?’ Isobel smiled politely. ‘You Greeks have a word for everything.’

He inclined his head. ‘The rest of the world owes much to us.’

‘What happens to trespassers when you’re not here?’

‘Milos deals with them. He is ex-army, and officially works as my gardener. But his main function is security. He had time off yesterday; otherwise you would have been removed before I arrived.’

‘Which would have saved a lot of trouble.’ One way and another.

Luke gave her the unsettling smile again. ‘But it would also have deprived me of the pleasure of meeting you.’

Isobel dismissed that with a shrug. ‘You speak very good English.’

‘Thank you. I had a very good English teacher in school and, due to his influence, I studied for my MBA in London.’ He got up. ‘It is good you are not a journalist. I am not usually free with my personal details.’

‘I shan’t pass them on to anyone,’ she assured him.

He looked surprised. ‘They are not secrets. I was born here on Chyros. My background is known to everyone.’

‘Even so, I don’t speak Greek so I’m not likely to talk to anyone about you.’

‘Not even to Alex Nicolaides? He speaks English.’

‘He hardly knows me! Though he was very helpful,’ she added.

‘Which cannot surprise you.’

She raised an eyebrow in silent query.

‘A look in the mirror will answer your question,’ he informed her.

She sighed. Same old, same old. ‘I seriously doubt that. I have a black eye, in case you haven’t noticed, Mr Andreadis.’

‘I could hardly help notice, but it is already fading and detracts very little from your looks, Miss James.’

‘Thank you,’ she said shortly, and bent to pick up her handbag. ‘Here are the keys. Will you let me know your verdict as soon as possible?’

Luke took them, his eyes amused. ‘You are so eager to leave my house?’

Her chin lifted. ‘I really can’t trespass on your hospitality any longer.’

‘You throw the word at me like a missile!’ He chuckled. ‘I shall see you at lunch.’

Isobel scowled as he strolled from the room, feeling all at sea. Lukas Andreadis in friendly mode—if you could call it that—was deeply unnerving. Yet hearing something of his background had whetted her curiosity to know more. But Eleni was the only one she could ask, so there was no way she was going to find out any more unless he told her himself. And, since she was hopefully moving out today, and it wasn’t a question she could ask anyway, that was unlikely. But she couldn’t leave until Luke Andreadis drove her to the cottage, so she would do what she always did with time on her hands—and far too often when she should have been doing other things entirely.

Isobel established herself at the balcony rail, propped one of her larger pads against it and began to sketch the pool. In the bright morning light it shone like a blue jewel in its setting of palms, oleander and feathery pink tamarisk. And as usual her concentration was soon so intense that Eleni had to clap her hands loudly to gain her attention.

‘Lunch, Isobel.’

Isobel closed the sketchbook hastily and turned to smile at Eleni. ‘I hadn’t realised it was so late.’

‘You wash now,’ said the woman. ‘Food nearly ready. You need help?’

‘No, I can manage, thank you.’ Isobel spent a few minutes in the bathroom, then went back into the bedroom to find Luke standing outside on the landing.

‘Eleni says you must come immediately or the food will spoil,’ he informed her. ‘I will carry you down.’

Isobel flushed, taken aback. ‘I thought I was eating up here again.’

‘While I thought you would enjoy lunch on the terrace. Even with the disadvantage of my company,’ he added slyly.

Isobel eyed him irritably. If she’d had prior knowledge of the arrangement, out of sheer pride she might have gilded the lily a bit—or as much as she could in her present condition. The swelling on her face had gone down, the bruise was fading slightly below her eye, which she could now open fully, but it was still no pleasure to look in a mirror. ‘You don’t have to carry me. I can manage with the crutch.’

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