The Power of the Legendary Greek

‘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.’

‘Thank you,’ said Isobel gratefully, smiling at both of them.

‘Are you ready?’ Luke tossed the crutch in the back of the Jeep, then installed Isobel in the passenger seat. His face was so grim as he took the wheel; the drive back to the villa was accomplished in silence so tense until Isobel felt obliged, at last, to break it.

‘I’m very grateful for all your help, Mr Andreadis,’ she said formally. ‘Would you give me Dr Riga’s bill, please?’

‘I have settled it,’ he said dismissively.

‘Then I will pay you,’ she persisted.

Luke Andreadis, accustomed to women who expected him to foot bills far more expensive than Dr Riga’s, shot her a scathing look. ‘I require no money from you, Miss James.’

Isobel had no energy to argue, even though the mere thought of owing this man anything at all acted like fire on her skin—which was hot enough already.

Once back at his house, Luke lifted Isobel out, then handed her the crutch. ‘Welcome back to the Villa Medusa,’ he said formally. ‘You can manage with this?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ Even if it killed her. But, by the time they made it through the conservatory, Isobel felt too exhausted to protest when Luke handed Spiro the crutch and picked her up to carry her upstairs.

CHAPTER TWO

ELENI and Spiro hurried behind, listening closely as Luke reported in their own language on Dr Riga’s treatment.

‘Eleni asked when you last ate,’ he reported, letting Isobel down in the armchair.

‘This morning on your beach,’ she gasped. No point in mentioning that grapes had been the only thing on the menu. Nor that she’d parted with them and everything else in her system in the guest bathroom, with an encore on the way down to the clinic.

‘I bring food to you very soon, Isobel,’ promised Eleni.

Relieved to have her catering arrangements decided for her, Isobel smiled wearily. ‘Efcharisto, Eleni. But I’m not at all hungry.’

Luke took the crutch from Spiro and propped it against Isobel’s chair. ‘You have everything you need?’

Heartily sick of being heaved around by a man who made it so plain it was a tiresome chore, Isobel made no attempt at a polite smile. ‘Yes. Thank you. I shan’t trouble you again.’

Luke’s smile set her teeth on edge. ‘You were trouble from the moment I first saw you, on my flight over the beach.’

‘Flight?’

‘In my helicopter. It is my habit to scan the beach as I come in to land.’

‘To scope out trespassers!’ She looked him in the eye—or as well as she could with one of her own half closed. ‘At the risk of boring you, I apologise once again for my intrusion, Mr Andreadis.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘Lord knows, I suffered such swift retribution I’ll never do it again.’

‘Even though you failed in your aim?’

Isobel frowned, her thought processes fighting a losing battle with her headache. ‘I don’t understand.’

Luke eyed the motionless Spiro, who obviously intended standing his ground until his employer was ready to leave. ‘With your permission, Miss James,’ continued Luke, ‘I will return after you have eaten. I wish to talk to you.’

Isobel inclined her sore head gingerly. As if she could say no!

Alone, she sagged for a moment in relief, then pulled herself together and tried putting her crutch through its paces. To her intense satisfaction she found that, headache and sprained ankle or not, she was now mobile, if not agile. Hallelujah! After the talk with the hostile Mr Andreadis, a lift back to the cottage was all the help she would need from him.

When Eleni came in, followed by Spiro with a tray, Isobel smiled persuasively and pointed to the balcony doors. ‘Could I eat out there, please?’

‘It is dark,’ said the woman, astonished.

‘Not with the stars and the light from the lamps in here.’

‘Whatever you wish, kyria,’ said Spiro, and took the tray out to the small table on the balcony. He rearranged the chairs, opened the other door to make it easier for her and bowed to her, smiling.

‘Efcharisto, Spiro,’ said Isobel gratefully and limped out onto the balcony to sit at the table, smiling in such triumph at Eleni as she parked the crutch that the woman laughed and patted her shoulder.

‘You are better. Good, good. Now, eat.’ She took a silver cover from an inviting omelette and left Isobel to her solitary meal.