Beware of the Beast (10 page)

Then her eyes darted revealingly to the yacht, still out in
the bay, and following her gaze, he said: "I'm sorry to dis
appoint you, but that's
Dimitrios
. He enjoys sailing, too."

Charlotte looked round for her sandals, more for something
to do than actually needing them. "There was no need to
come creeping up on me," she retorted.
"I -!
was
just taking
a walk, that's all."

Alex hooked his thumbs into the low waistband of his
shorts. "And I was just cleaning the launch's
carburettorl
" he returned, and when she still looked
sceptical
extended a hand for her to see the oil on his fingers. Charlotte felt somewhat
chastened, and he went on: "Did you sleep well?"

Her cheeks burned.
"I - yes.
Very well, thank you."

"Good. You look less - strained this morning."

Charlotte brushed sand off her toes. "You - that is - you
didn't-"

" -
come to bed?" he finished for her. "No.
Not to your
bed, at least."

Charlotte's eyes were troubled as she glanced up at him.
"I - why not?"
Perhaps he had changed his mind after all. Her
heart lifted.

But Alex was looking cynically at her. "Why do you
think?" he asked mockingly. Then, more soberly: "I've told you, Charlotte, I'm not a monster. I realize this has been a
tremendous upheaval for you, that you need time to get used
to the situation - to
me!"

Charlotte licked her lips.
"How - much time?"

"As long as it takes," he returned flatly. "Now, will you stop behaving as if I'm about to leap on you,
strip
off your
clothes, and take you, here - on the sand."

Charlotte quivered. "If- if this is supposed to be some kind
of an apology
- "

"Apology?"
he echoed impatiently. "Like hell, it's an
apology !
It's a stay of execution, that's all!" And with that he
turned and stalked away towards the boathouse.

Charlotte felt no further desire to remain on the beach,
and she scrambled up the cliff path, arriving hot and
dishevelled
at the villa. She encountered Maria in the hall, and
the old housekeeper looked with dismay at her dust-smudged
pants and flushed cheeks.

"Is something wrong?" she exclaimed, but Charlotte
shook her head.

"No, nothing.
I went down to the beach, that's all."

"Ah." Maria folded her hands together. "You were looking
for
Kyrios
Alexandros
."

"No, I
was
not," Charlotte contradicted her sharply. "And
now, if you'll excuse me, I need a wash...."

Charlotte spent the rest of the morning in her room,
refusing to admit what a futile exercise that was. After all,
Alex was not in the villa. She could quite easily have sun
bathed on the patio, or walked in the gardens among cool
olive trees, but instead she chose to hold herself apart from
the rest of the household.

The bed had been made in her absence, and kicking off her
sandals, she stretched her length upon it, staring up mutin
ously at the softly
moulded
ceiling above her head. Her
thoughts were confused after the things Alex had said to her.
While there was a certain relief in his so-called stay of execu
tion, there was also a bitter sense of insecurity. How long
was she expected to live in this state of almost suspended
animation, constantly aware of that impending approach of
disaster?

In spite of the turmoil of her thoughts, towards midday
she must have slept, because she awakened with a start, sure
that someone else was in the room with her. She blinked her
eyes, looking towards the door, but could see no one. Then
the shadow by the window attracted her gaze and she saw
Alex standing there, looking broodingly towards the horizon.
His back was partially turned to her, but in denim trousers
and a cotton sweat shirt he was less aggressively masculine.

Charlotte levered herself up on her elbows, resenting the
way he had walked uninvited into her room, had watched her
as she was sleeping. Had she really no privacy here?

"What do you want?" she demanded, and he turned slowly
to look at her.

"So - you're awake." His appraisal was without feeling.
"It's lunchtime. I came to tell you."

Charlotte sat upright, crossing her legs lotus fashion. "Sophia could have told me," she said shortly. "Or is this little
exercise intended to show me that you're not waiving
all
your
rights as a husband?"

Alex's lips tightened. "Don't fence words with me, Charlotte. You haven't enough weapons." He paused, moving
away from the window. "And in future, I do not expect to
find you sulking in this room all day."

"What am I supposed to
do ?
Twiddle my thumbs on the
patio?"

"You know perfectly well that there are advantages to
living here," he told her quietly.

"What advantages? I must have missed them!"

Charlotte refused to be quelled even though her heart was
hammering at her temerity. But Alex was no feeble adversary.

"Charlotte, you do realize what you are inviting, don't
you?" he suggested dryly, and all desire for provocation left
her.

Swinging her legs to the floor, she got off the bed, smooth
ing the creases out of her pants. "If - if you'll leave the room,
I'll not be long," she said, holding up her head, and to her relief he moved towards the door.

"Very well, if you insist."
He opened the door. "Wear
something green. It suits you."

Charlotte's jaws clamped together as he closed the door. His
meaning had been unmistakable, and she was greatly tempted
to throw something at him. But he had gone, and for that she
should be thankful.

By the time Charlotte appeared at the dining table, she had
showered and changed into a full-skirted dress of pale blue
silk which swirled about her slender legs as she walked. The style was more adult than anything she had worn before, and
ignoring Alex's instructions she had piled her hair up on
top of her head.

Alex was already seated at the dining table, studying the contents of the glass he was holding, but he rose at her approach and politely held the chair until she had sat down.
When they were both seated he picked up the small bell
beside him and rang it.

Tina served them with fresh melon, and when they were
alone again, he said: "This afternoon, I'll show you the island.
Then you'll have no excuse for feeling bored."

Charlotte pressed her lips together, staring down rather
uncomfortably at her plate. It wasn't true that she had been bored. Indeed, it had been a great temptation to remain out
in the sunshine, but indignation and resentment had driven her
indoors. She had no reason to tell him this, of course, even
if her conscience did trouble her somewhat.
Though why it
should when his did not appear to trouble him, she could not
comprehend.

"You do swim, I suppose?" he questioned, when she made
no comment, and Charlotte nodded her head. "Good. Bring
a swimsuit. There's a cove I know where the water is more
than twenty feet deep."

Charlotte swallowed a mouthful of melon, and then said:
"You don't have to entertain me, you know. I - I'm quite
capable of entertaining myself."

Alex regarded her resignedly. "Charlotte, I
know
I don't
have
to entertain you. But as I have some free time and you are a stranger here ..." He pushed his half empty plate aside,
and she glimpsed the impatience in his eyes. "For God's sake,
girl, can't you even stand the sight of me?"

"Would you expect me to do
so ?"
Charlotte defended her
self. "I didn't create this situation, you did! Why should
I-"

"Your father created this situation," Alex retorted coldly. "Never forget
that !"

"Do you think I could?"
      

Charlotte would have left him then, she was on the point
of thrusting back her chair and rushing back to the bedroom,
when his hand descended on her wrist, holding her in her seat
with sheer strength.
    
--

"Don't go," he said, and his tone was quietly commanding.
"All right.
If you'd rather not spend the rest of the afternoon
with me ..." He shrugged. "I won't force you."

Charlotte stared at him with a mixture of pain and compassion. She was reprieved - but was that what she wanted?

She didn't understand the chaotic turmoil of her emotions. When he released her wrist, she rubbed the bruised flesh
almost absently, and she was still there when Tina came to
clear the plates away.

Curried eggs and salad comprised the main course, and Charlotte pushed hers round her plate with a feeling of im
patience towards her own indecisiveness. What was wrong
with her now? Did she actually gain some enjoyment from these periodic skirmishes with the man who was now her
husband? Was she actually sorry that he had withdrawn from
the battle?

When the meal was over, Alex rose to his feet. "If you'll
excuse me," he said. "Dinner is at eight. No doubt I'll see
you then."

Charlotte looked up at him. "Yes," she said, in a small
voice, and with a brief nod he left her.

For three days, Charlotte only saw her husband at mealtimes.
They were long days, lonely days, when she seldom ventured
far from the villa. She ate breakfast in her room, and after
wards either sunbathed on the patio, or went down to the
beach to paddle in the sea. She had not swum yet, nor had she
encountered her husband again as she had that first morning.

Lunch was invariably at two, and afterwards she rested on
the bed with one of the books taken from the library which
Maria had taken much delight in showing her. Then afternoon
tea was at five, served on the patio, for which Alex did join
her, and dinner was at eight. This meal was over by about
nine or half past, and although she knew that Alex went into
the lounge and listened to music at this time, he never invited
her to join him. Consequently, she was in bed by ten most
nights, although not always to sleep.

Occasionally she saw
Vittorio
and
Dimitrios
about the villa.
She had learned from Maria that the Santos brothers lived
in the village over the headland, but as Alex was supposed to
be taking a holiday, their presence was not often required.

It was, for Charlotte, an almost solitary existence. The
words she and Alex exchanged over lunch and dinner could
scarcely be termed conversation, and her only speech was
with the servants.

Then, on the morning of the fourth day, she had an un
expected visitor. Casually dressed in cotton pants and a halter
top, she was sitting on the patio reading when Sophia came
to announce that
Kyria
Eleni
Faulkner had arrived and was
awaiting her in the
saloni
.

"
Kyria
Eleni
?" Charlotte echoed in confusion, getting up
hastily from the padded lounger she had been occupying,
dropping the aerosol container of lotion she had been using
to prevent her skin from becoming burned. "Who —who is
that?"

Sophia's dark eyes were faintly hostile, as usual. "
Kyria
Eleni
?
Ine
yaya
,"
she exclaimed, as if Charlotte should have
known this without asking.
"The - grandmother,
ne
?"

"Alex's grandmother," breathed Charlotte, under her
breath.
Of course.
Alex had told her his grandmother lived
on the island. But what was she doing here?
Now?
And where
was Alex?

Stopping Sophia as she was turning away, Charlotte asked:
"Do you - do you know where - where my husband
is ?"

"Ochi,
kyria
."

Charlotte, even with her small knowledge of the language,
did not need Sophia's shaken head to tell her that she did not.

"Oh, very well," she said shortly, dismissing the
girlIand
taking a deep breath, walked into the villa.

Eleni
Faulkner was an intimidating figure. Tall, taller even
than Charlotte, she was not a slim woman, and her ample curves were concealed beneath a long black dress which
reached almost to her ankles. It was a curious thing to
Charlotte that many Greek women seemed to favour such
dark colours in a climate where lighter shades would have
deflected the heat. Dark-skinned, like her grandson,
Eleni
had the distinction of almost white hair, which contrasted
sharply with her
colouring
. Despite the fact that Charlotte
estimated her age to somewhere between seventy and eighty,
she was not stooped, and there was no trace of weakness in that straight, uncompromising back. Coming into the room
out of the brightness outside, Charlotte was put at an im
mediate disadvantage in that the older woman had plenty of
time to appraise her before her eyes adjusted themselves to the
light.