Catherine George - The Enigmatic Greek

He surveyed her bleakly. ‘Instead I came to mingle with the crowds, hoping to give my wishes myself. To my surprise, I was granted the unexpected privilege of seeing you here, Talia, and so I stayed, even knowing I risked instant ejection from my son’s island if he saw me.’

‘Of course I saw you,’ grated Alex. ‘But throwing you off Kyrkiros would have attracted unwelcome attention to my mother.’

Eleanor got to her feet hastily. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll say goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, my dear.’ Talia smiled at her son. ‘Escort Eleanor to your room, please, Alexei mou. ’

In silence so thick it seemed to drain the oxygen from the air, Alex led Eleanor along the hall to his own bedroom, his reluctance to leave his parents alone together coming off him like gamma rays.

‘I hope you’ll be comfortable in here,’ he said stiffly as he ushered her into a starkly masculine bedroom so unlike Talia’s it could have been in a different building.

‘I’m sorry to turn you out of your room,’ she said, equally stiff.

He shrugged. ‘In the circumstances, the least I can do. But I must collect some belongings before I leave you to the rest you must be desperate for by now.’ He looked back along the hall, his jaw clenched. ‘I apologise. I should have introduced you back there.’

‘I recognised your father from his photograph.’

‘Of course you did. You’re a reporter.’

‘Yes. I am.’ Eleanor sighed wearily. ‘And, before you ask, I won’t mention Milo Drakis in my article either.’

‘Thank you.’ To her surprise, Alex actually smiled. ‘Keeping the lid on all this drama must be hellish frustrating for you.’

‘True. But to avoid any hurt to your mother I’ll make do with a colourful account of the festival and say nothing about the rest.’

‘Even though someone tried to drown you?’ For the first time his eyes held a touch of warmth. ‘I hope this paper you work for pays you well. You earned danger money today.’

Her lips twitched. ‘According to my editor, I get money for old rope. He calls this kind of assignment a paid holiday.’

‘Not quite the way it went down today!’ He crossed to a wardrobe and looked over his shoulder. ‘Help yourself to a T-shirt, or whatever, to sleep in.’

The intimacy of the situation put Eleanor on edge as Alex went into the bathroom.

‘Tomorrow night,’ he said when he emerged, ‘You can sleep in my mother’s room.’

She stared at him in surprise. ‘I thought you were hustling me back to the UK tomorrow.’

He shrugged irritably. ‘I was, but while you were getting cleaned up earlier my mother pointed out that you should be allowed to enjoy the rest of your holiday as planned. I can’t guarantee your safety on Karpyros, but I can if you stay on here. You’d have Sofia to look after you and give you meals, and Theo Lazarides for security. You can have the run of the place, other than my office, and if you find the Kastro too intimidating to sleep in alone I can ask Sofia to move up here until you leave.’

‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked, astonished.

A flash of respect lit the dark eyes. ‘I owe you, Ms Markham. You risked your own safety, even your life, to help my mother today. I pride myself on paying my debts. Or do you have a different reward in mind?’

She nodded. ‘Actually, I do, but I’ll let your mother fill you in on that. Right now, I’m so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open.’

He hesitated, and then surprised her by shaking her hand briefly. ‘Thank you again, Eleanor Markham. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’ She watched the door close behind him, wishing she could be a fly on the wall when he re-joined his parents.

Instead of doing so immediately, Alexei Drakos went into the tower room to stare out at the night sky, his mind more occupied with Eleanor than his parents who, much as he hated to admit it, were probably both pleased to be left alone together for a while. Besides, they were not his immediate problem—unlike the woman occupying his bedroom tonight.

He shook his head impatiently. He’d obviously gone too long without the pleasure of a woman to warm his bed. Since the degrading business with Christina, he’d avoided all women, which meant that part of Eleanor Markham’s appeal was her appearance in his life at a time of sexual drought. But the bright eyes in that narrow face had caught his eye this afternoon, otherwise he wouldn’t have offered his help. The discovery that she was a journalist had been like a punch to the ribs.

He winced. It was she who had taken that kind of blow tonight, in her fight to save his mother. No getting away from it, damn it. He owed her. He turned away abruptly, squaring his shoulders. Time to knock on his mother’s bedroom door and politely request that his father leave. God, what a night!

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