Beware of the Beast (14 page)

Alex bent to set the automatic player in motion, and present
ly the strings of the bouzouki filled the room with their
plaintive melody. Then he turned back to her and smiled.
"Come on, I'll teach you how to dance to this music. Do you
want to learn?"

Charlotte looked at him mutinously through her lashes.
"Oh - oh, all right," she conceded with ill grace, and he came
towards her, smiling at her frustration.

Charlotte had* seen Greek dancing before, on television,
but that had not prepared her for the reality. Alex's arm
about her shoulders brought her close beside him, its weight
a distracting influence to the things he was attempting to teach
her. Her own arm was around his waist and she was conscious
that only the fine material of his shirt separated her from the
muscular warmth of his hard body.

Even so, she tried to concentrate on what he was saying, following the sideways movements without too much difficulty, the crossing steps - three times, twice, once, dip. The
music on the turntable was gradually quickening, and their steps quickened in time to the music. Charlotte forgot her
awareness of her husband in the simple concentration of the
dance. Her breathing had quickened, and she emitted little
gasps of achievement as she managed to keep up with him.
She was laughing up into his face, confident of her own ability,
when she missed a step and gasped with pain as Alex's
suede-booted foot came down on her bare toes. She crumpled
away from him, sinking down on to the floor to nurse her
bruised toes, and he came down on his haunches beside her, his face taut with anxiety.

"God, I'm sorry," he muttered, brushing her hands aside and taking the injured foot between his own fingers. "Does
it hurt a lot?"

Charlotte raised half humorous eyes to his. "
Mmm
," she
admitted teasingly. "You're no light weight, you know."

His expression softened. "Well, I don't think there are any
bone* broken anyway. Can you stand, or shall I lift you?"

Charlotte shook her head, resenting a little his concern for
her, which smacked of patronage. "I can manage." She strug
gled to her feet, resisting his assistance. "The pain's wearing
off now. I'm not a child; you know, to be picked up every
time it hurts
itselfl
"

Alex looked at her with curiously intent eyes. "I never
imagined you were."

"No, but you do think of me as a child, don't you?" she
exclaimed. "Talking about being old enough to be my
father !"

Alex's eyes darkened. "How would you have me behave?
You want I should treat you as a woman?
As my wife?"

Charlotte
coloured
hotly.
"I -!
just
want to be treated as
an adult, that's all."

Alex turned away, his jaw taut with impatience. "This is a stupid conversation!" he told her flatly. "I married you, didn't
I?"

"I sometimes wonder why!" she flashed, almost without
thinking, and he turned on her angrily.

"Oh,
Charlotte !
Don't provoke me I
We're
only just be
ginning to have some kind of a relationship. Don't imagine
anything has changed I"

Charlotte's breasts heaved. "Oh, I see. So - so these past
days, they've just been pretence, have they?"

"
NoI
"
Alex smote his fist against his thigh. "No.
They'vt
been - ordinary, satisfactory days, when we've enjoyed each
other's company.
Or at least, I've enjoyed yours. You may
cot have enjoyed mine, but there's nothing I can do about
that I"

Charlotte hunched her shoulders, feeling ridiculously near
to tears. They had been good days, and now.
she
was coming
dangerously near to ruining them.

"I -I do enjoy your company," she murmured unhappily,
"Oh, Alex, I'm sorry. I was just being - bitchy."

He expelled his breath on a heavy sigh. "Yes - well, let's
forget it, shall we?"

Charlotte stretched out a hand and touched his arm, bare to
the elbow where he had rolled back his sleeves. She could feel
the taut muscles, sense his instinctive stiffening without actu
ally seeing it. "Alex, don't be mad at me! I know I say the
wrong things -
do
the wrong things. But I don't like it when you - patronize me."

"Patronize you?" He raised his eyes heavenwards.
"
I
don't patronize you, Charlotte. Oh, for God's sake - " He
put his free hand over hers, holding it against his arm, and
her pulses raced alarmingly at this exhibition of how easily he could take control of her emotions. His eyes held hers
captive, and there was a caressing quality about them which
weakened her knees and set her trembling. "Charlotte, believe
me, I do not regard you as a child. God forgive me, perhaps
I should, but I don't."

Charlotte found it incredibly difficult to articulate at all. "I -I - it's getting late. I - I'm tired," she managed jerkily,
and to her relief, he allowed her to withdraw her fingers.
"Good - goodnight, Alex."

He made no reply, merely nodded his head, and the sudden
gauntness of his expression was almost her undoing. She realized with a shattering sense of horror at her own body's
duplicity that had he drawn her into his arms just then, she would not have been able - or wanted - to stop him.

In the bedroom, she stared at her reflection with troubled eyes. The
colour
in her cheeks was hectic, her eyes were abnormally bright, and her breathing was more rapid than
could be accounted for by merely walking along the length
of the corridor. Her feet were still bare, and she remembered she had left her cork-soled sandals in the library. Thinking of the library reminded her once more of the legend, but with a
brisk determination she refused to think of that, and went
quickly into the bathroom.

But once she was in bed, between the satin sheets, her
thoughts were not so easy to control, and she despised herself for the way she had behaved. Was she so impressionable that
two weeks of Alex's company could make her completely
forget her reasons for being there? Was his personality such
that she had no control over her own feelings? Could she
excuse so easily his determination to make her
honour
her
father's debt? She refused to acknowledge such things, and with a smothered gulp buried her face in the lace-covered
pillow.

She awoke in the pale light of dawn to the realization that someone was sitting on the side of the bed, gently shaking
her. She opened her eyes reluctantly, and widened them in
amazement when she recognized Alex's shadowy frame.

"What do you want?"

Alex was partially dressed, and as her eyes adjusted them
selves to the light, she realized his trousers were dark and
immaculately creased, and his unbuttoned shirt was made of
white silk. They were not at all the sort of clothes he had
worn about the island, and a twinge of alarm feathered along her veins.

"I have to leave," he told her quietly.
"Within the next
hour.
I've had word from the States that there's some hang-up
over the Achilles merger. It must be pretty important or
they wouldn't have had George contact me. He's waiting in
the salon. He came in the helicopter, and we'll take it back to
Athens and fly out from there in the jet. With a bit of luck
we should be in New York by this afternoon, their time."

Charlotte absorbed this with dismay. Propping herself up
on her elbows, uncaring right then that the sheet had fallen
back to reveal the lace bodice of her nightgown, she stared at
him anxiously.

"But couldn't George handle it himself?" she protested.
"I mean, this is supposed to be your honeymoon."

"I know." Alex nodded resignedly. "Like I said, it must be
important or they wouldn't have contacted me."

Charlotte made an impatient sound. "If you weren't avail
able, they would have had to manage without you."

"But I am available," he pointed out steadily, running a
questing hand over the hair on his chest. "Honey, I'm
sorry."

"So am I." Charlotte chewed worriedly at her lower lip.
As she became fully alert, other anxieties were troubling her.
His own father had been killed by a terrorist's bullet, and yet
he was taking leaving the island so calmly. To her, it had
become a retreat, and the world outside had ceased to exist

"Alex ..." She stretched out her hand and touched his
chest, her nails digging into his flesh. "Alex, I don't want you
to go."

She heard his swiftly in-drawn breath, as he said roughly:
"Do you think I want to leave you?"

Her fingers strayed slowly up to his chin, and with a surge of emotion, she cupped his cheek. "Oh, Alex, there are men
out there who probably hate you just as much as they hated
your
father !"

Alex turned his head so that his mouth encountered her
palm. "I don't think about things like that," he muttered
huskily.

"But you should I" she breathed, suddenly achingly aware of her own vulnerability so far as he was concerned. "Alex,
don't
go !"

"I must," he said harshly. "I have no choice."

"Then let me come with you."

"No."

His refusal brooked no argument, and Charlotte's lips
trembled. With an exclamation, almost of impatience, his
hand slid down her bare arm to her shoulder, sliding the
strap of her nightgown aside so that he could bend his head and touch the soft skin he had exposed with caressing lips.
He smelt of shaving lotion and soap after his shower, and his hair was still damp where it brushed her cheek. The dark hair
on his chest was rough against the creamy skin rising from
the
lowcut
bodice of her nightgown, but it was not an un
pleasant roughness. Charlotte's breathing was
laboured
and
shallow, but when his mouth moved over her throat and cheek
to hers, she expelled a small sigh of involuntary satisfaction. Her arms slid round his neck, under the fine material of his shirt, and with an urgency that was taking possession of her,
too, Alex shrugged off the shirt without taking his mouth from hers. Then he gathered her completely into his arms,
and buried his face in the silky tangle of her hair.

"Your
trousers !
" she protested, desperately trying to hold on to sanity. "They'll be ruined-"

"To hell with them!" he muttered against her neck, and
grasping her face brought her mouth to his again.

Whatever kind of life Alex had been living, he was no
novice when it came to making love. Charlotte acknowledged
this with one small corner of her mind even while the devastating hunger of his kisses drained away the will to resist him.
His lips plundered hers passionately, bringing her to an aware
ness that he was lying beside her on the bed, his body hard
and heavy as it moved over hers.

With a groan of impatience, he kicked the covers aside and
it was then she
realised
he had shed the offending trousers and only her nightgown provided a frail barrier between
them.

That was when Charlotte began to panic. It started deep
inside her, a vague fluttering in her stomach which gradually
spread until it engulfed her in a shuddering sense of fear.
She moved desperately under him then, dragging her mouth
away from his and twisting her face from side to side, gasping:
"
Nol
Nol
You can't - you can't!"

He grasped a handful of her hair, holding her head still,
and his features were strained in the pale light. "I don't want
to hurt you, Charlotte, but I don't think I can help it! Oh
God,
I want you."

Charlotte's struggles were to no avail. She had driven him
beyond the point of no return, and she sobbed against his
chest when he tore the nightgown from her. It was an
agonising
experience, and only his mouth silenced the scream
that rose in her throat as he took her. Then it was all over
and he got up from the bed while she buried her face in the
pillows.