The Power of the Legendary Greek(9)

'Why?'

Luke looked at her in silence for a while. 'Not a suitable solution,' he  said at last. 'Instead, we shall transfer you to a room down here.'

Isobel eyed him curiously. 'May I ask why you didn't put me there in the first place?'

'It had no bed. Now it does. It will be much better for Eleni,' he  added. 'It will save her from constant running upstairs to check on  you.'

'A definite plus,' agreed Isobel meekly. 'Thank you.'

'Would you like to see the room now?'

'Yes, please.' She picked up the crutch and manoeuvred herself away from the table.

'It would be easier if I carried you,' he said, joining her.

'Unnecessary down here. I'm pretty nippy already with my trusty crutch,' she assured him. 'So lead on, Mr Andreadis.'

He conducted her back into the house and along the hall into a sitting  room with glass doors leading on to the terrace and an awning outside to  shield the room from the sun. Furniture had obviously been rearranged  to allow for the bed to be placed with the best view of the garden.

Isobel looked round doubtfully. 'It's lovely, but isn't this where you sit at night?'

'Rarely. I prefer the conservatory, or my study on the other side of the  hall. Sometimes I stay out on the terrace until I go to bed.' Luke  smiled. 'Use the room as long as you wish, Isobel. The ground floor  bathroom is close by. Eleni and Spiro have one of their own, so you are  assured perfect privacy.'

Isobel examined her new quarters in silence. Her belongings were already  arranged on the desk, and her clothes hanging on a dress rail beside  it. 'I booked my holiday on the recommendation of a client who came here  to recover from a divorce,' she said at last. 'She told me that Chyros  was the perfect place for peace and quiet, but in my case she was  wrong.'

Luke opened the doors onto the terrace. 'Why did you need peace and quiet? A love affair gone wrong?'

'No,' lied Isobel. 'My boss recently gave the gallery a huge makeover,  and I had my work cut out to make sure it was business as usual during  the alterations. At the same time I was working on a commission for a  series of watercolours, and setting up an exhibition of paintings by an  artist friend at the gallery for its ceremonial reopening.' She smiled  wryly. 'Not quite the same high octane stuff as your takeovers, but I  was glad of some time off once everything was sorted.'

'Then it is far better you stay here for a while and let Eleni and Spiro take care of you. You have a phone?' he added.

'Yes. At least I hope so.' She limped over to the desk and looked in her  bag. 'Still here, thank goodness. In all the excitement yesterday it's a  wonder I didn't lose that, too.'

'Give me your number,' he ordered, taking his phone from a pocket. He  keyed the number into it, then held out his hand for hers. 'I shall  enter mine in yours.'

'I shan't need it,' she said quickly.                       
       
           



       

'You might. I shall charge this before I give it back.' He gave her a searching look. 'Your head is aching?'

'Yes.'

'I can tell. I shall send Eleni with tea. Take some medication and rest  for a while. I shall see you later at dinner,' he added as he left.

When Eleni came with the tea, Isobel asked directions to the bathroom  and later, when she was propped up on the comfortable bed, looking out  on the garden through the open doors, admitted that now the owner was  leaving she had no objection to spending another day or two here. Talk  of blood clots had given her quite a fright. On her own in the cottage,  the slightest pain in her head would have sent her imagination into  overdrive.

She leaned back with a sigh. Here at the Villa Medusa it would be  dangerously easy to laze away the days of her holiday in true  lotus-eating style, whereas part of her original intention for her trip  to Greece had been to produce some watercolours she could put up for  sale at the gallery on her return. Joanna had dismissed that idea out of  hand, arguing that the idea of a holiday was to have fun as well as  take a rest. But to Isobel painting was fun. So tomorrow, once Luke  Andreadis had left for Athens, she would set up her watercolours, paint  the pool in its frame of lush greenery and, if she considered the result  good enough, leave it for him as thanks for his help. The help had been  hostile and reluctant at first but he'd given it just the same, even  though he'd mistaken her for a journalist, or worse. And, unless she was  much mistaken, he still suspected her of stranding herself on his beach  like some party girl after a good time. But the fact remained that he  had rescued her, arranged medical attention and taken her into his home  to recover. She owed him.

Isobel slept a little, and when she woke just lay there, savouring the  pleasure of simply feeling better. But after a while she sat up and  stealthily eased herself out of bed. With the help of the crutch she  would go exploring. Moving with care, she went out onto the terrace,  wishing she had her sunglasses. Hers, presumably, were still down on  that beach somewhere. Pity. With growing confidence Isobel made her way  along the marble flags edging the pool and stood looking into the water  in longing for a minute or two, then with a sigh turned back towards the  arcaded terrace surrounding the house. But, as she turned, the tip of  the crutch stuck in a crack and with a shriek she fell onto the grass.

Instantly she was swept up in strong, unfamiliar arms and a flood of  anxious Greek poured into her ears. Deeply embarrassed, Isobel tried to  reassure Milos she was unhurt. Her face flamed as Luke strode out of the  house, holding out imperious arms, and Milos hastily surrendered Isobel  to his employer and picked up the crutch. He confirmed there was no  damage to it and, with a brief word of thanks to Milos, Luke carried  Isobel along the terrace and out of the sun.

She eyed his stern face warily. 'Sorry for the disturbance,' she said at last.

'Tell me the truth. Are you really unhurt?' he demanded.

'Yes. I fell on the grass-soft landing this time.' Her smile met with a stony look.

'And yet you are determined to go back to the Kalypso to manage alone!'

'But when I'm there I'll stay in the house,' she protested, and sighed. 'I just wanted to look at your beautiful garden.'

'You could have fallen in the pool!'

She shrugged. 'No problem. I'm a strong swimmer.'

'Excellent,' he said grimly. 'At least I shall not worry that you drown  while I am away.' He turned away to the table to pour a glass of fruit  juice for her, then perched on the edge of the table, scowling down at  her while she drank it.

'Please apologise to Milos for me,' said Isobel.

Luke's mouth curved in a sardonic smile. 'No apology is necessary. Milos  was no doubt grateful for the chance to hold you in his arms.'

Isobel eyed him incredulously. 'You think I fell on purpose?'

He gave a cynical shrug. 'Did you?'

She drank the rest of her ice-cold juice to calm down. 'No,' she said  when she could trust her voice. 'I did not. Thank you for the drink.  Now, if you'll excuse me?' She stood up and limped off to her new room,  filled with a burning desire to assault Luke Andreadis with her crutch  as he kept pace with her. She gave him a cold little smile as he opened  the door for her. 'Thank you. Would you be kind enough to ask Eleni to  see me when she has a moment?'                       
       
           



       

'Of course. Unless there is something I can do for you instead?' Luke  eyed her challengingly when she shook her head. 'You are angry?'

'Not in the least,' she lied.

'No?' He arched a disbelieving eyebrow. 'I will fetch Eleni.'

'Thank you so much.'

Isobel stared out into the garden, fuming. Did Luke really imagine she'd  fallen over just so that brawny Milos could pick her up? Or, even  worse, so that the lord and master himself could come to her rescue  again. She ground her teeth impotently. Luke had grabbed her away from  Milos as though she were a parcel. Or baggage, from his point of view.  She smiled reluctantly, her sense of humour reasserting itself as Eleni  came rushing in.

'Isobel? You ill?'

'No, no, nothing like that. I feel fine.'

'Milos said you fell.'

'My crutch stuck in a crack and tripped me up.'

Eleni tutted disapprovingly. 'So what you need?'

'I hate to make extra work for you, but could I possibly have my supper in here on my own tonight?'

The woman looked anxious. 'You did hurt!'

'No, no. I'd just rather eat alone. Please?'

Eleni plumped up the pillows on the bed, eyeing her narrowly. 'You rest. Not time to eat yet.'

'Efcharisto, Eleni.'

Although she'd opted out of dining with the lord and master of Villa  Medusa, an encounter with him later was no doubt inevitable. To armour  herself for it, Isobel washed carefully in the bathroom and zipped  herself into a cool cotton shift in her favourite cornflower-blue. With  even more care, she combed out her hair, then subsided gratefully  against the pillows on the bed. The crutch was a huge help, but getting  around with it was tiring just the same. She longed to ring Joanna, but  if she did Jo would immediately sense something wrong and keep nagging  until Isobel confessed. Time enough for that when she went home. She  closed her eyes against a sudden wave of homesickness. When she opened  them again she saw Luke on the terrace, watching her through the open  doors.