The Power of the Legendary Greek(4)

Alex looked so uncomfortable Luke took pity on him.

'I will drive you myself, Miss James,' he said impatiently. 'But only when you can manage alone. Demonstrate this for us.'

Isobel summoned every scrap of willpower she possessed to sit up  straight. She paused for breath, swivelled round until she could put her  good foot on the floor and then took the hand Eleni held out to help  her as she struggled to stand. 'You see?' she said through her teeth.  'If you gentlemen will kindly leave, I'll get dressed.'

'Miss James, this is not a good idea,' said Alex, plainly expecting her to collapse in a heap at any second.

'I must try. The cottage is all on one floor. I have food there, so if Mr-'

She glanced at her host. 'I'm afraid I don't know your name.'

'No?' He raised an eyebrow in scornful disbelief. 'I am Lukas Andreadis.'

'How do you do?' She turned to Alex. 'If Mr Andreadis will drive me,  I'll be just fine.' She swallowed hard on rising nausea and wavered  slightly, her hand tightening on Eleni's.

Luke shook his head. 'I will drive you when you are fine, Miss James,  but that is most obviously not today. Put her back, Eleni.'

'That is best, Luke,' said Alex, relieved.

Isobel gave up. She let Eleni make her comfortable, then turned her face  into the pillows in despair. Her longed-for odyssey had come to a  grinding halt before it had even started. She ignored the hushed  interchange in their own tongue between the men, wishing they'd just go  away and leave her to wallow alone in her misery.

'Miss James,' said Alex, coming back to the bed.

Isobel opened her eyes. 'Yes?'

'If you allow me to have your keys, I will take my sister to your house to pack for you.'

'How kind,' she said unsteadily. 'The keys are in my backpack.'

'I am most happy to do this, but it was Luke's idea,' he added.

She turned unsmiling eyes on her host. 'Then thank you, too, Mr Andreadis.'

'Here in Greece we believe in helping travellers,' he informed her indifferently.

'Unless they invade your beach.'

'True.' He unbent enough to smile faintly. 'Come, then, Alex. I will drive you.'

Eleni closed the door behind them, poured iced fruit juice into a glass  and gave Isobel two of the tablets. 'Drink, kyria,' she said firmly.

Isobel obediently swallowed the painkillers and drank some of the juice.  'Efcharisto, Eleni.' She managed a smile. 'But please call me Isobel.'

Eleni repeated the name shyly, put the glass on the table, then opened the carton of yoghurt.

Isobel eyed it in alarm. 'I'm so sorry, but I really can't eat anything right now.'

'Ochee, not for eating. For your face. It is burning, ne?'

'Oh, yes,' sighed Isobel, and submitted to an unexpected beauty  treatment. Eleni smoothed the blessedly cool, creamy yoghurt over her  face, left it there until it warmed up, then gently cleaned it off with  tissues.

'I will do it more later,' she promised, 'but now you sleep, Isobel.' She smiled and went from the room, leaving the door ajar.                       
       
           



       

Eventually the pills took enough edge off her aches and pains to let  Isobel take interest in her surroundings. Filmy white curtains stirred  at glass doors which led on to a balcony, and the room itself was  furnished with the type of elegant simplicity that cost the earth. She  groaned in sudden despair. She'd come all this way to Chyros to regain  her normal perspective on life, yet one day into her holiday and here  she was, stranded in a wealthy-and hugely unfriendly-stranger's house,  with no way of escaping until she was more mobile. But why had the man  been so sure she'd known who he was? And felt so ticked off about it,  too. Perhaps he was some kind of celebrity here in Greece. Her mouth  twisted. He needn't worry where she was concerned. He was good-looking  enough in a forceful kind of way, but his personality was so horribly  overbearing it cancelled out any attraction he might have had for her as  a man …

When Isobel opened her eyes again they widened when she found another stranger looking down at her.

'Dr Riga, Isobel,' said Eleni, hurrying to help her to sit up.

The large, bespectacled man gave her a reassuring smile. 'Kalispera. How  do you feel?' he asked in heavily accented English, and took her pulse.

'Not too well,' she admitted.

He nodded, his eyes so sympathetic her own filled with tears again.

'I'm so sorry, Doctor,' she said huskily, and took the tissue Eleni had ready.

'You suffer much pain; you are also in shock and alone in a strange  country, Miss James. Tears are natural,' he assured her. 'I must take  X-ray at my clinic. Eleni will help you dress.' He smiled reassuringly  and went from the room.

'Eleni,' said Isobel urgently, 'will you help me wash again? Did Mr Andreadis bring my clothes?'

The woman nodded and helped Isobel out of the bed, supporting her as she  hopped awkwardly to the bathroom. 'I used iron,' she said severely.  'Alyssa Nicolaides packed too quick.'

'You're an angel, thank you, Eleni.' Isobel tried to hurry. 'I mustn't keep the doctor waiting.'

Eleni shook her head. 'He is gone. Kyrie Luke will drive you. Not rush,' she warned.

After the hurried bathroom session Isobel felt relatively presentable in  a white denim skirt and blue T-shirt, though the effect was marred by  wearing only one sandal. Otherwise she felt horribly queasy still, and  her head was pounding like a war drum. Eleni helped her to the stool in  front of the dressing table, anointed her face with more yoghurt, then  wiped it away and handed Isobel her zippered travel pack. Resigned to  see faint bruising under her eye, Isobel used a comb gingerly, decided  against lip gloss and smiled wanly at Eleni.

'I'm ready.'

The woman nodded. 'I tell him.'

Isobel would have given a lot to walk downstairs on her own two feet  when Luke Andreadis appeared in the doorway in a crisp white shirt and  jeans which were obviously custom made by their fit.

'How do you feel now?' he asked, his eyes on the bright hair curling loosely on her shoulders.

'Cleaner.'

'But you are still in pain.'

'Yes.'

He picked her up with exaggerated care. 'I will strive not to cause you more.'

'Likewise, Mr Andreadis,' she returned, holding herself rigid, face averted, as he carried her from the room.

He frowned. 'Likewise?'

'Carrying me around can't be doing your back much good.'

He laughed sardonically as he descended the curving staircase into a  marble-floored hall with an alcove containing a striking half-size  statue of Perseus brandishing the severed head of the gorgon Medusa. 'I  will survive. You are not heavy.'

'As soon as humanly possible, I'll get back to the cottage.'

'When Dr Riga says you are fit to do so,' he said dismissively and  carried her through a large plant-filled conservatory to put her in the  passenger seat of the Cherokee Jeep parked at the back of the villa.  Which, now she had attention to spare for it, Isobel could see was a  dream of a house.

'You have a beautiful home,' she said politely as Luke got in beside her.

'Efcharisto. I bought it years ago, and altered it to suit my taste. I  look on it-and the beach that came with it-as my private retreat.'                       
       
           



       

'Is that why you were so furious when you found me down there?'

He lifted a shoulder. 'Trespassers are a common occurrence.'

She clenched her teeth. 'Once again, I apologise.'

It was no surprise to find that Luke Andreadis drove with panache. They  swerved at speed round one dizzying bend after another on the tortuous  descent until at last Isobel had to beg him to stop.

Luke came to a screaming halt, raced round the Jeep and hauled her out,  then, to her hideous embarrassment, supported her as she retched  miserably over a clump of bushes at the roadside.

'Can you continue now?' he demanded as she straightened.

'Yes,' she gasped, sending up a prayer that she was right.

He put her back in the Jeep and handed her bag over. 'I will drive slowly the rest of the way,' he said stiffly.

'Thank you,' she managed, the pain in her head now so unbearable again she could hardly speak.

The doctor hurried out of the modern clinic building as they arrived, his face anxious.

'You are late. I was worried.'

'We had to stop on the way because Miss James was sick,' Luke informed him. 'I am so used to the road I drove too fast.'

'Ah, poor child. Bring her in, Lukas. My radiologist is waiting, and also Nurse Pappas with a wheelchair.'

Luke lifted Isobel out of the car to transfer her to the wheelchair, his  mouth tightening as he felt her shrink from him. 'You will obviously  prefer this.'

You bet, thought Isobel, as the friendly nurse wheeled her away. Later,  after X-rays and a trying episode while her wound was thoroughly cleaned  and dressed again, she was given painkillers and water, then wheeled  back to the reception area.

'There is no fracture to the skull or the ankle, but you are suffering  from mild concussion,' Dr Riga reported and smiled encouragingly at  Isobel. 'You need light nourishment and much rest. I will give you more  medication for the headache, but take no more until bedtime. And Nurse  Pappas has a crutch for you.'