Runaway Sister (15 page)

Much later that night, in fact in the early hours of the morning, Samantha lay tossing and turning in her bed, sleep evading her in spite of the wine. Wearily she got up to go to the kitchen. She was desperate for a drink of ice-cold water; the red wine had made her terribly thirsty. Without bothering to brush her hair she pulled on her cotton house robe, belting it tightly around her naked figure, and padded down the stairs in the darkness towards the kitchen. After having a long drink, she refilled her glass and added some ice cubes, and was just about to leave the kitchen for the return journey back to her bedroom, when the front door opened and Sophie and Adam came in.

Adam switched on the lights, revealing Samantha standing barefooted at the bottom of the stairs, glass of water in hand. She was acutely conscious of her disheveled look, her thin, almost transparent cotton robe, and her bare feet. He for his part looked very relaxed, and she noticed angrily that his shirt was open, exposing the dark curling hairs on his chest. Her heart nearly exploded with a seething jealousy.
No need to guess what you two have been up to,
she thought bitterly.

“Anything wrong?” asked Adam. His voice sounded concerned.

“No,” snapped Samantha shortly, mounting the stairs as quickly as she could to get out of his sight. “I was thirsty, that's all. Good night to you both.” She felt as if she might as well have been standing there completely naked for all the protection her flimsy cotton house robe afforded her. Adam's gaze lingered appreciatively on her feminine curves, causing her to clutch the house robe defensively around her as she went upstairs.

Fumbling with the catch on her door, she couldn't get into her room quickly enough, and once inside she placed the glass of water on the bedside table with a trembling hand. She could have kicked herself, first of all for having drunk too much wine, and secondly for going downstairs without bothering to brush her hair. Her pride was hurt as well as her feelings, and she had only herself to blame on both accounts.

Angrily, she flung herself facedown on the bed. “I hate you, Adam Shaw!” she muttered, thumping the pillow with all her might.

Chapter Eight

Samantha awoke next morning rather late, feeling as if she had been hit over the head with a sledgehammer. She groaned and rolled over in bed, clutching her head. She had that hangover Dennis had warned her of. She reluctantly forced herself to get up and go downstairs, although she had never felt less like breakfast in her life. There was no sign of Adam and Sophie, and she was thankful for that.

They didn't put in an appearance at lunchtime either.

“They were back very late last night,” Valerie told Samantha. Samantha didn't say that she knew as she had met them on her way back from the kitchen, she just contented herself with a noncommittal nod.

“Sometimes I think Sophie has Adam in mind for a husband,” Valerie confessed to Samantha. “What do you think?”

“I think you're probably right,” Samantha couldn't help but answer, then she asked, “Would you like that?”

Valerie shook her head in a negative fashion. “No, neither Dennis nor I think they're in the least bit suited. Sophie's a butterfly, she wants all the good things in life, and never wants to stay in any one place very long; but Adam on the other hand…” she paused and smiled tenderly as she mentioned her brother's name, “…Adam loves his work. He wouldn't be happy being a socialite. He may leave his hospital for short periods, but he would never leave it forever.”

Samantha sighed. “I think you're right, but he may be persuaded to change his mind. Sophie is a very attractive woman.”

“Yes,” said Valerie in a resigned tone, “but that doesn't make me like her.”

Samantha laughed. “To tell you the truth, I don't particularly like her either, but I must admit,” she added, “it's totally illogical. She hasn't done me any harm, so really I ought not to dislike her.”

Valerie leaned forward earnestly. “Woman's intuition, that's what it is,” she said. “We must protect Adam for his own sake. I know!” She clapped her hands together. “You must flirt a little with Adam, take his mind off Sophie.”

Samantha flushed a brilliant red. “I couldn't do that,” she mumbled uncomfortably. “I'm just not the type to flirt, and certainly not with Adam.”

“Sorry, Samantha,” said Valerie contritely. “I've made you embarrassed. Don't worry, you won't have to flirt with Adam for my sake. We'll just have to hope he extricates himself from her clutches.”

Some hope!
reflected Samantha with more than a touch of animosity.

Samantha wandered down to the cove after lunch for a sunbathe and swim. Valerie had decided it was too hot for her and had retired to bed for her afternoon nap. Samantha stretched herself out on the jetty in the sun. There was a slight breeze from the sea which took away some of the heat, and she trailed her hand over the side in the warm blue water. The glare from the sun filtering through her closed eyelids lulled her into that twilight world, half between sleep and waking.

Gently but firmly a warm mouth wandered over her lips, moving them to investigate their gentle curves more thoroughly, persuading them to respond with a sensual pliancy. A pungent masculine perfume alerted her senses, waking her up to the reality that it was Adam kissing her. For a few moments Samantha surrendered herself to the delicious feeling his mouth induced, responding to that warm mouth moving over hers. Then the true reality struck her like a cold shower, and angrily she began to fight him off. With a little cry she pushed him savagely and rolled away from beneath him. It startled Adam, who lost his balance and rolled backwards off the jetty into the water below, landing in the sea with an enormous splash.

“Good, I hope you drown!” shouted Samantha at him as he surfaced, coughing and spluttering. Then picking up her towel she stormed off along the jetty towards the path leading up from the beach. But she wasn't quick enough for Adam; with one mighty heave he hauled himself out of the water and onto the jetty. Then with a few long strides he caught her, and held her in a viselike embrace.

“What's the matter now?” he demanded furiously. “I only kissed you, that's all. Why do you run away when I know you really want to stay?”

“You flatter yourself!” Samantha hissed back at him. “You repel me!”

Adam snorted disdainfully. “For a woman who's repulsed, you have a habit of kissing back in a very convincing manner.” He pulled her closer to him. “Are you jealous of Sophie, by any chance?” he demanded.

Samantha tore herself from his grasp with a strength she didn't know she possessed. “No!” she spat at him. Then the angry words came tumbling out—anything to hurt him. Anything to pierce that damned self-assurance of his. Samantha heard herself say, “I lied to you yesterday. I still love Steve, I probably always will. Every time you've kissed me I've imagined it was Steve. It's only when I open my eyes that I'm disappointed to find it's you!”

Adam made no answer, but just stood there, his dark eyes seething with anger, his muscular frame seeming to emanate fury.

“Just leave me alone!” Samantha clipped the words out one by one, her voice sounded harsh and strained. Then without stopping to wait for a reply she turned on her heel and walked swiftly up the rocky path back towards the villa.

Dinner that night was a strained affair, to say the least. Valerie and Dennis, of course, were completely unaware that Adam and Samantha had quarreled. Samantha knew that Adam certainly would not have told Sophie, but she nevertheless seemed to have an inkling that there was something going on between Adam and Samantha, and tried to needle some sort of admission out of Samantha by constant innuendoes. Samantha completely ignored her, it was difficult not to rise to the bait, but she was determined and managed to steer the conversation away from any embarrassing situations.

The next day Samantha kept well out of the way of Adam, and stayed with Valerie, and it was with a mixture of relief and disappointment that she heard he had to fly back to England the next day. Apparently something unexpected had cropped up at Princess Mary's that demanded his immediate attention.

“I was hoping he'd be able to spend at least a fortnight with us,” grumbled Valerie, “but anyway,” she added on a brighter note, “he's promised to come back before the baby is due. I suspect it's not so much for the pleasure of my company, as to make sure everything is all right with the pregnancy.”

That night it was decided on the spur of the moment that they would all go to the Achilleion Palace Casino. Samantha tried to get out of the trip by protesting that she had a slight headache, but Valerie would have none of it.

“You put on your glad rags and come,” she said firmly. “It's Adam's last evening and we're going to have a fantastic time. I haven't been there for ages!” Her face was flushed with excitement at the prospect.

It was with little enthusiasm that Samantha dressed ready for the visit to the casino. She had never been to a casino before, and had no idea what to expect, or what the women wore. Valerie had said glad rags, so eventually she decided on a dress she had bought on impulse in a sale in London, but had never found a suitable occasion for which to wear it. It was a simple white dress in Grecian style, caught on one shoulder with a clasp, leaving the other shoulder bare, and falling in graceful lines to the floor, a loose gold chain at her waist emphasizing her slenderness. She caught her fine blonde hair up in a loose chignon and secured it with a golden poke pin.

Turning to look at herself critically in the mirror, she wondered whether perhaps she was dressed correctly for a visit to a casino. She picked up her small gold evening bag, that matched the gold chain belt, and put in a little money, wondering whether she would be able to afford to gamble.
Oh well,
she thought resignedly,
it doesn't matter whether I'm dressed in the right sort of clothes or not, this is how I'm going anyway!
She stepped down the stairs in a defiant mood, which she knew was her defense mechanism for having to spend an evening in Adam's company pretending she didn't care a hoot for him.

They all squashed into the big white estate car for the drive to the casino. Valerie and Dennis had complimented Samantha on her dress, and she had been relieved to find that Valerie was attired in an evening dress and Dennis was resplendent in dinner jacket and bow tie. Adam and Sophie were also in evening dress, Sophie, of course, looking very glamorous with a plunging neckline that left little to the imagination.

Samantha had tried not to look at Adam. He looked so incredibly handsome, the combination of his tan and the evening suit was enough to turn any woman's head. She managed to sit next to Valerie in the car and avoided close contact with him.

The conversation ebbed and flowed around Samantha as Dennis steered the car through the mountains, past Corfu Town and then once more through mountainous roads to the casino. She had known it was called the Achilleion Palace, but she was totally unprepared for the magnificent building set in beautiful gardens. As they climbed the marble steps towards the enormous entrance hall, with its wide sweeping staircase and painted ceiling, Samantha was glad she had come after all. It certainly was a very special place, somewhere she would have never ventured into on her own.

The men and women there sparkled in expensive clothes and jewelry and the gaming tables were set out on the huge black and white checkered marble terrace, with its magnificent views across the sea. The sky was like black velvet, lit up by a million sparkling diamonds. Apart from the chatter and laughter of the assembled company, there was the clink of glasses and the occasional pop of a champagne cork. Above it all was the ever-present whirring of the cicadas. Samantha drank in the ostentatious scene, the bright fringed lamps slung low over the green baize-covered tables, the croupiers at the tables, the gamblers eagerly placing their bets.

From the moment they had started walking up the stairs Samantha knew there was no way she was going to be able to afford to place a bet, so she was quite content to watch the others. Valerie and Dennis had a flutter, but soon gave up.

“I always make it a rule,” said Dennis, “to set a limit. When I've lost that, I just stick to drinking and watching others lose money!”

Sophie on the other hand seemed wildly extravagant, and Samantha wondered how on earth she could afford it. She and Adam joined forces with an American named Tex, whom they both obviously knew, and the three of them gambled, forming some kind of syndicate. Samantha gave up trying to follow what the rules were and eventually drifted away from the gaming tables.

Valerie and Dennis were sitting just inside on an elegant chaise longue, but Samantha preferred the cool night air. She wandered away from the main gaming area to the edge of the terrace overlooking the sea. Here it was quieter, the air was fragrant with the perfume from the wild rosemary and thyme bushes that spread down the hillside, forming an aromatic green covering. Samantha stood silent, glass of champagne in her hand, staring out to sea. She could just pick out the lights of some small boats, reflected on the water, probably fishing far out to sea.

“You're looking very elegant tonight.” Adam's voice close by her made her heart lurch alarmingly.

“Thank you,” she replied, not looking round.

“We did it again, didn't we?” said Adam, coming to stand to one side of her so that she was forced to look at him.

“Did what?” she asked, avoiding his eyes.

“Quarreled,” said Adam. “I just don't understand you, Samantha—I'm just beginning to think that I do, then every time you suddenly put up the shutters.”

“You've never understood me,” said Samantha sadly. He would never understand that she just wasn't capable of flitting from person to person like he seemed to be, content with shallow sexual relationships.

“You could try to explain to me,” said Adam softly. “I'd like to understand.” She froze as she felt his mouth lightly kiss her bare shoulder.

“Don't!” she muttered, drawing angrily away from him.

“What is it?” he asked. “You treat me as if I were some sort of leper!”

“It's not that, it's just that…” Samantha turned to him and sighed.

Adam smiled, a dark enigmatic smile that twisted Samantha's heart painfully in her breast. “You really fit this setting,” he told her. “In that dress you look as if you've stepped out from a Greek mosaic, except that you're a fair-haired beauty instead of a black-haired one.”

Samantha smiled back at him involuntarily. His flattery was a balm to her spirit, but it didn't solve anything. She felt a danger from just being near him, afraid that his perception would tell him the truth concerning her riot-torn emotions. She was terrified that he would find out that she found him irresistibly attractive, and tried to cover her conflicting emotions by remarking brusquely, “I expect Sophie is wondering where you've got to.”

“I don't think so,” said Adam. “She seems to have found a kindred spirit in Tex.”

“Oh, is that the American you were with?” asked Samantha, desperately trying to keep the conversation centered on anything but herself.

“Yes, he's an old friend of Sophie's, and like her just recently divorced.” Adam looked back over his shoulder towards the gaming tables. “He owns several oil wells, and is being very generous, encouraging Sophie to play for very high stakes.”

“Don't you mind?” she couldn't refrain from asking, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Mind? Why should I?” asked Adam. “As long as she isn't losing my money, I don't mind.”

Samantha sighed. She felt out of place in such a society, she knew she could never live the promiscuous, self-indulgent life of jet set society. Some of her disapproval must have registered on her face, because Adam laughed and said, “You looked distinctly disapproving!”

“I suppose I am,” she replied stiffly. “When you see all the money being frittered away here, and think of half of the world's children starving, it seems all wrong somehow.”