way she held herself, as if afraid to relax in his presence, he sighed. "All right. Orange or lemon?"
"Orange juice, please." Charlotte twisted her hands to gether. " Er — do you think my luggage will be long?"
Alex handed her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, clinking with cubes of ice. "Not long. Vittorio and Dimitrios should be here soon after dinner. I'm sorry you couldn't change, too, but there'll be plenty of time for you to wear the clothes Verna chose for you."
Charlotte took the glass he proffered and sipped at it nervously. It was very cold and faintly sharp. Alex indicated the couch beside her.
"Sit down," he directed, turning from the tray with his own glass in his hand, liberally filled, she saw with dismay.
Charlotte sank down weakly on to the couch. In truth her legs felt none too steady at that moment.
"Did you enjoy your bath?" he asked, taking up a position before an ornamental trellis where jasmine twined. His alien ancestry seemed peculiarly pronounced this evening in these lamplit surroundings, his darkness accentuated by the white walls of this particularly Greek apartment.
Charlotte concentrated on the liquid in her glass as she replied: "Very much, thank you. I - I used some of the bath essence. I presumed that would be in order."
"Use what you like. This is your home."
"My home!"
She echoed his words bitterly, but Alex chose to ignore it. "You are at liberty to go wherever you choose, to treat this place as you think fit. If you have been used to going out a lot - to night clubs and theatres, no doubt you'll find it dull. But I own quite a comprehensive library, and George had orders to obtain the latest best-sellers from both sides of the Atlantic so that should you enjoy reading, you would not be short of books." He paused, swallowing half the liquid in his glass. "Apart from that, during the day there is swimming and sailing, walking if you feel so inclined, and always the sun."
L istening to him, Charlotte thought his words spelled a prescription for the kind of life she would have happily accepted with the man she loved. But always here, overlaying everything with its ominous presence, was the real reason for her being here, and no amount of reassurance could make her forget it.
To her relief, Maria appeared a few moments later to announce that dinner was served. They carried their drinks up to the dining table, and were seated opposite one another, across that gleaming expanse of polished oak.
It was Charlotte's first taste of Greek cooking and it smelled so appetising that she was able to ignore for a while at least the tortuous turnings of her mental processes. Stuffed tom atoes, and tiny sardines, proved sufficient hors d'oeuvres to lean meat kebabs, served on a bed of vine leaves filled with rice. It was rich food, and the meat was oilier than she was used to, but it tasted delicious. Fresh fruit and cheeses were served as a dessert, and Charlotte decided to choose a peach to sweeten her mouth. She had had a glass of glowing red wine with the meal, noticing overtly that Alex had drunk several glasses himself, but she refused the liqueur he suggested with their coffee. The approach of night caused Charlotte to spill some of her coffee into the saucer, and she was aware of Alex watching her with undisguised impatience.
The launch arrived as they were drinking their coffee, and Alex excused himself to go and speak to the men. Presently the other young woman she had been introduced to earlier appeared with her suitcases, but when Charlotte got half out of her seat to take them, she shook her head.
"I have the keys, kyria " she said rather more amicably than her contemporary had spoken before dinner. "I will at tend to it," and Charlotte had subsided again rather resignedly.
She was left alone for fully half an hour, and by the time Alex reappeared, she had left the table and returned to the room they had occupied earlier. She couldn't sit down, however, and wandered
"Orange juice, please." Charlotte twisted her hands to gether. " Er — do you think my luggage will be long?"
Alex handed her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, clinking with cubes of ice. "Not long. Vittorio and Dimitrios should be here soon after dinner. I'm sorry you couldn't change, too, but there'll be plenty of time for you to wear the clothes Verna chose for you."
Charlotte took the glass he proffered and sipped at it nervously. It was very cold and faintly sharp. Alex indicated the couch beside her.
"Sit down," he directed, turning from the tray with his own glass in his hand, liberally filled, she saw with dismay.
Charlotte sank down weakly on to the couch. In truth her legs felt none too steady at that moment.
"Did you enjoy your bath?" he asked, taking up a position before an ornamental trellis where jasmine twined. His alien ancestry seemed peculiarly pronounced this evening in these lamplit surroundings, his darkness accentuated by the white walls of this particularly Greek apartment.
Charlotte concentrated on the liquid in her glass as she replied: "Very much, thank you. I - I used some of the bath essence. I presumed that would be in order."
"Use what you like. This is your home."
"My home!"
She echoed his words bitterly, but Alex chose to ignore it. "You are at liberty to go wherever you choose, to treat this place as you think fit. If you have been used to going out a lot - to night clubs and theatres, no doubt you'll find it dull. But I own quite a comprehensive library, and George had orders to obtain the latest best-sellers from both sides of the Atlantic so that should you enjoy reading, you would not be short of books." He paused, swallowing half the liquid in his glass. "Apart from that, during the day there is swimming and sailing, walking if you feel so inclined, and always the sun."
L istening to him, Charlotte thought his words spelled a prescription for the kind of life she would have happily accepted with the man she loved. But always here, overlaying everything with its ominous presence, was the real reason for her being here, and no amount of reassurance could make her forget it.
To her relief, Maria appeared a few moments later to announce that dinner was served. They carried their drinks up to the dining table, and were seated opposite one another, across that gleaming expanse of polished oak.
It was Charlotte's first taste of Greek cooking and it smelled so appetising that she was able to ignore for a while at least the tortuous turnings of her mental processes. Stuffed tom atoes, and tiny sardines, proved sufficient hors d'oeuvres to lean meat kebabs, served on a bed of vine leaves filled with rice. It was rich food, and the meat was oilier than she was used to, but it tasted delicious. Fresh fruit and cheeses were served as a dessert, and Charlotte decided to choose a peach to sweeten her mouth. She had had a glass of glowing red wine with the meal, noticing overtly that Alex had drunk several glasses himself, but she refused the liqueur he suggested with their coffee. The approach of night caused Charlotte to spill some of her coffee into the saucer, and she was aware of Alex watching her with undisguised impatience.
The launch arrived as they were drinking their coffee, and Alex excused himself to go and speak to the men. Presently the other young woman she had been introduced to earlier appeared with her suitcases, but when Charlotte got half out of her seat to take them, she shook her head.
"I have the keys, kyria " she said rather more amicably than her contemporary had spoken before dinner. "I will at tend to it," and Charlotte had subsided again rather resignedly.
She was left alone for fully half an hour, and by the time Alex reappeared, she had left the table and returned to the room they had occupied earlier. She couldn't sit down, however, and wandered
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