Beware of the Beast (13 page)

They saw Maria looking out for them as they approached
the villa. Her gnarled features revealed her concern, and
Charlotte guessed she had been worried about them. She
said something reproving to Alex in her own language, and
then, when he insisted: "English,
Maria !
" she went on:
"Where have you been? It is long after two
o'clock !
I was
about to send Sophia to the village for
Vittorio
!"

Alex patted the old woman's shoulder affectionately.
"We've been swimming, Maria, and I guess we forgot the time."

"Swimming?"
Maria's dark eyes flickered over Charlotte's
flushed skin and tangled hair. "Ah - ah, yes, I see."

Charlotte understood only too well what the old woman
thought she saw, and now she was embarrassed. Naturally
Maria would know of Alex's swimming habits and imagined no doubt some tender love scene down there beside the pool.
With a toss of her head, she brushed past both of them, and
went into the villa.

CHAPTER FIVE

When
Charlotte appeared for lunch, Alex was waiting for her
at the table. He had put on a shirt and combed his straight hair,
but that was all. Charlotte meanwhile had showered and chang
ed into a white poplin shift that left her arms and most of her
legs exposed to the sun.

After she was seated and Tina had served them each with a
bowl of iced
consomme
^!
,
Alex spoke. "These past couple of
hours," he said slowly. "Did you enjoy yourself?"
Charlotte decided to be honest, "Very much."
"Then don't you think it would be more sensible if we
spent more time together?" he suggested quietly.

Charlotte looked up and found his dark eyes upon her. She
looked away again. "What does that mean exactly?"

Alex's grimace was exasperated. "Well, it doesn't mean in
bed, if that's what you're afraid of I"

Charlotte spooned soup into her mouth. "Is that what you
want?" she asked tentatively.

Alex sighed. "Yes. I see no reason why we shouldn't
be - friends, at least."
   

"How can I be your friend?" Charlotte exclaimed, feeling
almost a traitor at the thought.

"How can you be my enemy?" he retorted, and with an
exclamation of impatience got up from the table and walked to
the top of the shallow stairs which led down into the hall. Then he turned to look at her, his hands in his pockets, the
dose-fitting pants exposing the taut muscles of his thighs.
"Charlotte, I've been very patient with you, more patient
than you could have expected me to be. Why do you continue
to fight me every inch of the way? Is your life here so miser
able? Is it such an arduous existence I've chosen for you?

Would yon rather be in the chills and fogs of an approaching
English winter?"

Charlotte put down her spoon. "Those are not fair ques
tions."

"I disagree. You're here, aren't you? And you are my wife.
How many times must I remind you of that?"

"I don't need reminding," she retorted, pushing back the
heavy swathe of hair which fell across her cheek. Then despis
ing herself because of it, she added: "Come and eat your
lunch. You must be hungry."

Alex's eyes narrowed- "What do you care? You'd stand by
and see me starve I Don't deny it."

"But I do," she protested fiercely.
"I -!
wouldn't
stand by
and see anybody starve I"

"Oh, thanks very much."

Alex resumed his seat, his expression sardonic, and with a
feeling of remorse, she exclaimed: "All right, all right. Let's
- try it. Spending more time together, I mean."

Alex frowned. "Is this some new gambit?" he asked sus
piciously.

Charlotte had to smile. "No. No, I mean it. You can —
show me the island. I really would like to see all of it."

During the next few days, Charlotte ignored her conscience
and allowed herself to enjoy Alex's company. And he was
good company. He knew the contours of the island blindfold
,
from the wilder coastline at the north side of the island to
the
sunbleached
coves below ,the villa. The barren cliffs made
the island a virtual fortress, and it came as no surprise to her
to learn that that was why Alex's father had acquired it. His
subsequent death at the hands of terrorist assassins made his vulnerability that much more
real,
and Charlotte found her
self wondering whether Alex ever thought about the dangers
he ran when he left the island. He had a bodyguard, of course,
but what good would he be in the face of machine-gun
bullets?
 

They went swimming, Alex subjugating his love of free
dom for her benefit by wearing his shorts in the water. He taught her how to handle the power launch which took them
swiftly out into the blue-green waters of the Aegean, and twice he took her sailing in the bay. The first occasion, he
took her in the racing dinghy she had seen that first morning.
Charlotte had only rarely crewed for her father, and in spite
of the poignancy of that remembrance, she found it an
exhilarating experience. On the second occasion, they used
the twin-hulled catamaran which she soon learned was his
rea
^ obsession. It occupied pride of place in the boathouse, alongside the launch, and had the quixotic name of
Easy
Rider
.
          

Unlike her father, Alex did not insist on handling everything
himself. He was quite prepared to give her control for a while,
and with him stretched out lazily on the cabin roof, she felt
the certain thrill of complete possession. It was at times like
these when she found it almost impossible to drum up any
feeling of antagonism towards him.

As well as showing
her the
island, Alex talked
to
her. He knew the islands of the
Cyclades
like the back of his hand -
their people, their industry,
their
legends. Charlotte found the
legends particularly fascinating. She had always loved the
magic that could be found in myths and fairy stories, and
when she discovered accidentally from Maria that
Lydros
had
its own legend she was eager to hear-it.

But in this Alex proved strangely reticent, and it was left
to her to search among the books in the library until she found
what she was looking for. She was curled up in an armchair after dinner one evening, studying a massive tome of myths and legends she had taken from the shelf, when Alex came
into the library.

She was surprised to see him. The strains of a Carpenters
L.P. drifted through from the lounge, and she had thought he
was in there, listening to it. These past few days she had learn
ed that he liked all kinds of music, from beat music and jazz to the classical composers, and the similarities in their tastes had been quite startling. But now he strolled into the room,
dark and disturbing, in dose-fitting black pants and a dark
red silk shirt.

"What are you doing?" he asked, squinting at the ledger like
volume she was supporting on her
culotte
-dad knees. "What
is it?
Myths and legends?"

She looked up. "I'm looking for the
Lydros
legend," she told him levelly. "You don't have any objections, do you?"

Alex lifted the huge book out of her hands.
"As
a
matter
of fact, yes."

Charlotte screwed up her face disappointedly. "Oh, don't
take it away," she pleaded. "I'd just found it."

Alex closed the book with a distinct thud. "Why are you
so curious about our legend?" he demanded.

"Why shouldn't I be?" she protested, getting out of her
chair, slim and youthful in the vivid blending of blues and
greens to be found in her
culotte
suit. She stretched out her
hand to take the book again. "Alex, please! Don't be
mean!"

He smiled then, a lazy teasing
smile, that
did strange things
to her lower limbs, so that despising the weakness, she flopped
down into her chair again. Her lips curved sulkily, and Alex
regarded her with knowing amusement.

"All right," he said at last, and her eyes widened. "If you're
so determined to hear it, I'll tell you. It's quite simple really.
Lydros
— that was the god's name, of course - rescued a
beautiful maiden from the wreck of a vessel come to grief on
the rocks around our coastline." He paused. "
Lydros
fell in love with the girl, but she thought he was old and ugly, and.
she was terrified of him. But he made her live on the island,
and gradually, over a period of time, she came to know him
and care for him. He didn't know this, until he finally took pity on her and offered to send her away, and she refused to
go. That's all there is to it."

"Oh, I like it!" Charlotte had been listening intently, and
now she leaned forward, her chin cupped in her hands. "It's
almost like the story of Beauty and the Beast, isn't it?" she
breathed. "Except that the girl's father wasn't involved.
h-
"

She broke off suddenly and stared at him, and Alex's mouth
turned down at the corners. He turned away and thrust the
book back into its place on the shelves. "Beware the
Beast !
"
he remarked mockingly, and left the room.

Charlotte turned to stare after him, her brow furrowed.
Now she knew why he had not wanted her to read the story. There were too many similarities to
her own
situation. She
turned back, and grimaced at her hands. But Alex was not
old - or ugly - and she was no longer afraid of him.

Pressing her hands down on the arms of her chair, she got to her feet again, and padded slowly through to the lounge.
Alex was standing by the drinks trolley, helping himself to a
large scotch. Even as she watched, he threw the raw spirit
to the back of his throat, wincing slightly at the onslaught.
Then he seemed to sense that he was not alone, for he half
turned and saw her in the doorway. He frowned down at his
empty glass for a moment, and then with a shrug replaced it
on the tray.

"Well?" he said. "Have you finished reading for this evening?"

Charlotte nodded.
"Alex, I -!
want
you to know, I had no
idea..."

His lips twisted. "No idea about what?"

"Oh, you know what I meant
The
legend, that story!"

"What about it?"

His eyes were narrowed and challenging and she sighed impatiently. "Alex, you know what I'm trying to say. You're
not making it very easy for me."

He ran a hand over his thick hair, coming to rest at the
back of his neck. Then he gestured with his free hand towards
the trolley. "Can I offer you a drink?"

Charlotte scuffed her bare toe against a skin rug. "No. I'm
not thirsty."

"Are you going to sit down, then?" he suggested, indicating
a nearby couch.

"Why won't you talk about it?" she burst out at length
as he walked over to the turntable to change the record. "I know you think there are comparisons to our situation, but
it's not really similar. I mean - well, I'm not afraid of you."

Alex straightened and looked at her. "Aren't you?" he
asked quietly.

"No." Charlotte took a deep breath. "And you're not old,
or — or ugly."

Alex half smiled then. "Oh, yes, Charlotte, I am old.
At
least old enough to be your father."

She flushed. "Age has nothing to do with it. You're not
like - like Daddy was." She bent her head, realizing what she was saying. She, who had maintained she would always hate
this
man
. "I suppose I seem childish to you, but that doesn't
mean you're old I"