'I know, Isobel.' He chuckled softly. 'Were you impressed?'
'Yes,' she said honestly. 'Though very embarrassed when you caught me watching.' She gave a sudden yawn, more from nerves than weariness. 'Sorry.'
'You are tired. It is time you went to bed.' Deaf to her protests, he picked her up and carried her along the terrace to her room, finding that his senses were stirred by emotions he normally kept under rigid control-the direct result of sharing such personal information with Isobel. Combined with the scent and warmth of the slender body in his arms, they filled him with a sudden urgent need for the kind of solace only a woman could provide and, instead of setting her down on her feet he sat down in the armchair with her in his lap. 'When a man rescues a damsel in distress he deserves a reward, ne?'
She stiffened, pulling away in alarm. 'What kind of reward do you have in mind?'
'Just a goodnight kiss.'
Isobel shook her head vehemently, pushing him away in such frenzied rejection Luke got up, grim-faced, and laid her down against the pillows on the bed.
'Do not look at me like that,' he said harshly, staring down into her ashen face. 'I am not a rapist.'
'Maybe not.' She hugged her arms across her chest, unable to meet his eyes. 'But neither am I applying for the post of pillow friend.'
Luke stood utterly still for a moment. 'A word of advice, Isobel,' he said after a pause. 'Wait until asked to apply for such a post before you refuse.'
She burrowed into the pillows, burning with mortification as he strode through the open doors. Thank God he was leaving tomorrow. Before he came back-if he did come back while she was here-she would be at the cottage. With a gasp, she shot upright again as he reappeared from the terrace with her crutch.
'I will send Eleni with tea,' he said curtly.
'No! Please tell her I don't need anything tonight.'
'As you wish.' Luke gave her a formal nod. 'I leave early in the morning. I shall say goodbye now.'
'Goodbye.' Isobel pulled herself together. 'Thank you again for all your help.'
He shrugged negligently as he made for the door. 'It was nothing.'
Isobel slumped against the pillows, fighting the urge to cry her eyes out. But if she gave in to tears the headache would come back and, threat of blood clots or not, tomorrow she was determined to leave the Villa Medusa. She looked at her watch and groaned. It was still quite early and she was no longer tired. Quite the reverse. The brief episode had sent her into such a spin she would take some calming down if she was to get to sleep any time before morning.
Later, propped up against pillows ready for the night, Isobel felt better, grateful to her head for letting her read. At least she wouldn't have to lie awake all night, mulling over the mortifying episode with Luke. But she couldn't explain why she'd shied off like a frightened virgin. Although he'd surprised her with details about his background, her own experience was too new and raw to talk about to a man who was virtually a stranger. So if Luke had harboured any idea about a holiday fling it was better to nip it in the bud right now. She sighed heavily. The physical contact of carrying her about so much had been to blame, creating intimacy from the word go.
Isobel steeled herself to concentrate on her book. Then looked up in surprise as someone knocked on her door.
'Come in,' she called, expecting Eleni, her body instantly rigid as Luke came in and closed the door behind him.
'I saw your light.' He approached the bed, something in his eyes pressing her panic button again. 'I knew you were awake, Isobel. I brought your phone.'
'Thank you,' she said stiffly. 'I'd forgotten all about it. I was reading.'
'The phone was just an excuse.' He sat on the edge of the bed, frowning as she backed away. 'Isobel, did you really believe that I would force you? You are a guest in my house, and still recovering from an accident. Do you think I am such a monster?'
'No. I don't.' Her eyes fell.
'Thank the gods for that,' he said dryly. 'Then why such panic?'
She drew in a deep, unsteady breath. 'Bad experience lately.'
'A lover who refused to take no for an answer?'
'Something like that.'
Luke's eyes darkened. 'He hurt you?'
She nodded.
'Can you talk about it?'
'No.'
'Perhaps it would be good for you if you did.' He put a finger under her chin to turn her face up. 'Tell me, Isobel.'
She stared at him in indecision, then sighed wearily. Why not? It was supposed to be easier to confide in a stranger. 'I have this problem,' she began very quietly. 'Due to my lack of relatives, I tend to look for friendship and caring rather than heat and, well, sex, when it comes to relationships. A few months ago I met an artist whose work we put on display at the gallery. He became a regular fixture in my life, good company for meals and concerts and so on. But nothing more than that. But when we got back from what turned out to be our last evening together he asked to see my latest series of watercolours. They were still in my flat, so for the first time I invited him up there.' She pushed the hair back from her face. 'He mistook the invitation for something else entirely. I tried to fight him off, but he's a big man and things got rough.'
Luke's eyes smouldered into hers. 'He raped you, this friend?'
Her hands clenched. 'He had a good try. But I fought him so hard I managed to jab him with a stiletto heel in a place which put a stop to proceedings.' She shivered. 'But not before he hurt me badly. Psychologically as well as physically.'
He swore under his breath. 'It would have been even worse if he had succeeded. You could have been left with child.'
Isobel flushed, and shook her head. 'I have close friends-twin brothers who are both doctors-and, on their advice, I've taken the necessary precautions for years against that kind of accident.' She sighed, depressed. 'Up to that point I'd really thought Gavin was a true friend like the Carey twins. But it was the same old story. He just wanted to get me into bed. And I haven't had a good night's sleep since.' She shrugged. 'I've given up on men since then. Other than the friends I've known forever.'
'I rejoice to know it is not something I have done.' Luke smiled wryly. 'I was most cast down when you refused to eat with me earlier. My dinner invitations are usually accepted more eagerly.'
She gave a choked little giggle. 'I bet they are.'
His eyes lit up. 'That is better. You are even more lovely when you smile, Isobel. But, if I say so, you will accuse me of appreciating your beauty more than your intellect.'
She smiled. 'Since you've been so kind I'll make an exception in your case, Luke.'
'So we are friends again?' He smiled slyly. 'You said you like men who wish to be friends.'
'I do. Not that it matters. I'll be back in England soon.'
'It is not time for you to go yet. And I shall return here in a few days,' he went on, surprising her. 'After the funeral I will work very hard to make sure I get away. By then,' he added, 'you will be well again. So take care this week. No climbing down cliff paths even when your ankle is better. If you want to sunbathe on my beach, Spiro will take you over in the Athena. Spiro,' he repeated significantly, 'not Milos.'
She smiled wryly. 'Actually, I won't bother either of them, thanks just the same. I'll be quite happy to sit on my veranda at the cottage, and when I can I'll stroll down to the taverna to eat.'
Luke frowned. 'It would be more sensible to stay here, Isobel.'
Not if he was coming back. She shook her head. 'It's very kind of you, but I really must get back to the cottage. Before I do, have I your permission for a swim in your pool?'
'Wait until I return. I will swim with you,' he said quickly. 'Dr Riga is coming to check on you tomorrow, and you must do as he says, ne?'
'Yes,' she said, resigned.
'And when you return to the cottage, take both walking stick and crutch.'
'Absolutely.' Isobel held out her hand, but her smile faded as her eyes met his. There was sudden taut silence between them, then Luke pressed a kiss on the hand. He leaned nearer, his eyes intent on hers. 'Normally,' he said softly, 'I like my women dark and voluptuous. Unlike you, my little English friend.'
'I definitely don't tick your boxes,' she said, determinedly prosaic. 'My hair is fair-'
'Golden,' he corrected.
'And I'm not in the least voluptuous. Nor,' she said firmly, 'am I one of your women.'
'No? But I saved your life,' he reminded her, his voice deepening. 'In some cultures that means you belong to me now.'
'Not in my culture! Besides, you just wanted to throw me off your island at first. Not quite the same as saving my life, Lukas Andreadis.'
'Was it not? You were unconscious and your foot was caught in the rock. What would have happened to you if I had not found you? I was destined to rescue you, Isobel. It is useless to struggle against the fates.' He smoothed the hair back from her forehead, careful to avoid her wound as he twisted a curl round his finger. 'This hair of yours fascinates me, hriso mou.'