Isobel stood on it to lean against the wall of the hut and size up the situation. If she hung about here, hoping to catch the attention of a passing fisherman, she was far more likely to attract the attention of the kidnapper, who was bound to return sooner or later, either to exchange her for money, or … She blanked out the alternative and concentrated on a survey of the beach and the belt of greenery edging it. Beyond it, the cliffs rose even more steeply than those leading to the Villa Medusa, but her eyes lit up as she realised that what looked like a ribbon winding up the cliff was actually a path leading from the far side of the beach. It looked more user-friendly for a mountain goat than a human, but even if she climbed up it on her hands and knees she had to try rather than stay here like a sitting duck.
Isobel picked up her unwieldy bundle and, with the help of a sharp pebble, made a jagged tear in the cloth and ripped the thin rug in two. She tied one half round her shoulders for protection like a shawl, finished off the half empty bottle of water, then tied up the remaining two with the food and fastened the ends of the rug round her waist. She limped across the sand as far as she could go, then picked her way over the shingle, glad to leave the scorching sun for the shade of the pines. She winced as needles caught in her socks. Shoes would have been nice. So would a hat and sunglasses. But when she finally reached the foot of it the path was a crushing disappointment; far narrower than she'd thought, and so vertiginously steep she had no hope of climbing up it, hands and knees or any other way. She regrouped. Time to do some serious thinking. Thankful that her watch had survived intact, Isobel saw it was later than she'd realised. It had taken her far too long to get free of the ropes, and the nap had been a big mistake.
She stiffened suddenly, her heart in her throat as she heard an engine out to sea. Panting in panic, she dropped to the ground, dispensing with her bundle to wriggle under cover as the sound grew louder, and scrabbled around until she found a tree branch sturdy enough for a weapon. Just in case. She fought to lie still, ignoring the spiny plant pricking at her as the engine noise grew louder, then had a sudden change of heart. No more victim nonsense, Isobel! She scrambled to her feet, squaring her shoulders as she brandished her weapon. If it was the kidnapper she'd face him on her own two feet and put up a fight, rather than burrow into the ground like a coward. Her heart began pounding like a trip hammer as the boat came nearer; then, to her overwhelming relief, a familiar voice shouted her name and Luke leapt from the boat as it reached the shingle.
With a cry of joy Isobel dropped her weapon as he came racing towards her; the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen in her life, villainous black eye included. He swept her up in his arms, hugging her hard enough to crack her ribs as Spiro came hurrying to wring her hand in passionate relief before excusing himself to ring Eleni with the wonderful news.
'Are you hurt, Isobel?' demanded Luke roughly, slackening his hold to look her up and down.
'Not really,' she gasped. 'Please! Can we just get away before he comes back?'
'Just one man?' demanded Luke as he carried her to the Athena.
'Yes.'
'Can you describe him?'
Isobel shook her head. 'It was dark and he wore a hood. But he was very big, and spoke Greek with an accent very different from yours.'
'He was definitely strong,' said Luke grimly. 'He carried you down the cliff path to the beach to get to the boat. And I have made sure that path is difficult to discourage trespassers.'
She smiled valiantly. 'Good thing I was unconscious for that part!'
Luke deposited his burden very gently on a seat in the boat and, ignoring her protests that she was hot, wrapped her in a light rug very different from the one provided by the kidnapper. Luke gave her wonderfully cold water to drink and then held her close as Spiro untied the boat and jumped aboard to restart the engine. Something unclenched inside Isobel as the boat headed out into the sea and she leaned against Luke in the cool salt breeze of their passage, savouring his warmth and strength, hardly daring to believe she was safe.
'The hut was locked,' he said hoarsely, holding her close. 'You actually climbed out through that window?'
'With enormous difficulty, yes. I had to break it first.' Isobel gave him a brief account of her labours, and her idea of climbing up the cliff to escape. 'But the path was too narrow and steep, and my ankle hurt,' she finished. 'My wrists, too,' she added, and Luke swore volubly as he examined them. 'How did you know where to find me?'
'When I was young I spent half my life on these waters.' He hugged her closer. 'When the photograph came through to me from my people in Athens I was mad with worry. But once I calmed down I realised I recognised the hut, even though it is many years since I worked for the old fisherman who owned it. There are probably countless others like it but, thank the gods, I was right about this one.' His voice roughened. 'Tell me the truth, Isobel. Did this animal hurt you?'
She shook her head, knowing he meant far more than just the marks on her wrists. 'No. He put a cloth over my face with something like chloroform on it, and trussed me up. And in the hut he cut off some of my hair-did you receive that, by the way?'
'Not personally,' he said, in a tone which sent shivers down her spine. 'I was already on my way back to Chyros after Spiro rang in a frenzy to report that you were missing.'
Isobel smiled comfortingly at Spiro as he shook his head in mute remorse. 'The man left food and water with me, so I suppose he was going to come back at some point. Did he ask for money?'
'Yes. I have until ten tomorrow night to pay. My people in Athens relayed the message.' He drew in a deep, unsteady breath. 'Spiro heard something in the night and went out into the garden to investigate, but could see nothing in the darkness. Then he heard a boat start up in the cove below and went to check on you. The doors to your room had been forced and you were gone. So was the intruder, or Spiro would have been a casualty, too,' said Luke grimly.
'Thank God he didn't run into him! The man would make two of him.' Isobel shuddered at the thought.
'Even so, Spiro is deeply ashamed that he failed to keep you safe.' Luke's arms tightened. 'So am I.'
Isobel shook her head firmly. 'It's no one's fault. I'm all right. Really. Where was this place, by the way?'
'A small, uninhabited island just a short distance to the south of Chyros. Probably chosen so he could get you there quickly without being seen.'
'Uninhabited?' She rolled her eyes. 'So if, by some miracle, I had managed to climb that path up the cliff, it would have been for nothing?'
Luke nodded grimly. 'No beach on the other side, just rocks. Old Petros was a loner and spent a lot of time there. He kept a goat or two at one time, hence the path. But fishing was his main pastime. He used to bring his catch in to Chyros to sell to the tavernas, which is how I met him. He liked me, for some reason, and gave me a job in the school holidays. I was often there on the island, sharing food with him in that hut, which is why I recognised it from the photograph.' His arm tightened painfully. 'Otherwise-'
'Let's not think of otherwise,' said Isobel firmly, then sighed with relief as a familiar smudge appeared on the horizon. 'Chyros!'
CHAPTER EIGHT
TO ISOBEL'S surprise, Spiro kept well out to sea instead of making for the familiar harbour. Luke smiled at her in reassurance and held a finger to his lips as he pulled the rug up to cover her head when Spiro finally steered the Athena into a narrow, steep-sided cove on the far side of Chyros. He secured the boat close to the waiting Cherokee on the jetty, and jumped out to hold the Jeep's passenger door wide as Luke stepped on to the jetty with his tightly wrapped burden.
'Forgive me; I must do this,' Luke whispered as he laid Isobel on the floor between the front and back seats. 'I cannot risk someone seeing you. Just a few minutes more, and you will be safe.'
Isobel had to concentrate hard on keeping still in her wrappings as Luke drove at breakneck pace up a steep helter-skelter of a road. She relaxed a little as the Jeep eventually stopped climbing and began to descend, and when it finally turned down the drive to the villa she heaved a heartfelt sigh of relief. The instant it came to a halt Luke plucked her out to carry her inside the house, where Eleni, hysterical with relief, hurried behind as he bore Isobel upstairs to the guest room on the upper floor.
Luke unwound the rug and set her down in the big chair in the familiar, beautiful bedroom, then stood back to look at her over Eleni's head as the little woman knelt to grasp Isobel's hands, pouring out remorse and apologies it was hard to understand with only one word in five in English.