Beware of the Beast (7 page)

"Oh, I see." Charlotte massaged the leather of the vanity
case.

"You'll have your belongings before it's time for bed, if
that's what you're concerned about," Alex assured her dryly,
and Charlotte, who had been thinking of this, felt furious that
he could read her thoughts so well.

"I was — curious, that's all," she replied shortly, and
turned her own attention to the scenes outside the car.

When his hand descended on her knee, she almost jumped
out of her skin, and her head jerked round so that she could stare at
him with horrified eyes. "Charlotte," he said heavily
,
 
“
don’t
be so - frightened of me."

“I’m not frightened of you," she lied chokingly.

“God -
you are!" he muttered exasperatedly. "And
lying
it isn't going to make it any easier for you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

“
Yes, you do." His fingers were hard through the fine
material of her pants. "Charlotte, you're my wife now. That's
in indisputable fact. And as I'm not going to allow you to get an
annulment or anything, I suggest you start behaving
a
normal human being. All this - this jumping around
when I lay a hand on you, the fear in your eyes when you thought we might be staying the night in Athens, worrying
about whether your nightgowns will arrive in time !
 
My
God, what am I?
A monster or something?"

“
What do you expect me to do? Welcome the knowledge
that you're my husband? Be transported by delight at the
thought of bearing your child? I hate you, Alex Faulkner, and
I refuse to make things easy for you!"

"Easy for me?
My
Godl
" He released her and sank back
hi
his seat. "All right, Charlotte, have it your own way. But
on your head be it."

Charlotte felt a twinge of remorse. "I - what do you mean I"
"You want to keep everything on a business footing, that's
okay by me."

Charlotte caught her breath.
"I -!
don't
know I said that."
He turned his head sideways against the soft upholstery,
looking at her. "You can't have it both ways, Charlotte.
Either we can pretend, and make things easier. Or we can
keep to the terms of the contract. Either way, it's all the same
to me."

"What do you mean — pretend?"
His eyes narrowed. "Now what do you think I mean?"
Charlotte could feel the hot
colour
burning her cheeks. "Oh - oh,
no!"
she gasped. "How - how dare you suggest
such a thing?"

He shrugged and looked away from her, staring straight
ahead. "I was only thinking of you, believe me. But if that's
not the way you want it. ..." He paused. "At least behave
civilly in public. That's one thing I insist upon, do you under
stand?"

Charlotte did not answer him.

She had never flown in a helicopter before, and in other circumstances she would have been delighted by the trip out
over the blue green waters of the Aegean, south-east over
dozens of small islands each shimmering beneath a haze of
heat. To Charlotte's astonishment, Alex piloted the heli
copter himself, and she sat between him and George Con-
standis
, her thigh wedged against the hardness of his. It was
hot in the helicopter, and Alex had loosened the top buttons
of his shirt and pulled down his tie. He was sweating freely
and the scent of his hot body came to her nostrils. She turned
her head away, not wanting to be any more aware of him than
she already was in this confined space, but she could not sup
press the thought that later tonight his hard powerful body would take possession of hers.

The back of her own neck was wet, and the coppery hair
clung in damp strands to her jacket. She longed for a shower
and a change of clothes. The cream suit which had seemed so
suitable in the coolness of London was far too thick for this climate. But until her suitcases arrived, she would have to
content herself with what she was wearing. Even so, pushing
more disturbing thoughts aside, she contemplated the con
tents of her wardrobe with increasing pleasure, realizing that the flimsy garments she had felt so unnecessary at the time of
their purchase would no doubt find a use in conditions like
these. She had not realized it would be so hot.

During the short flight, Alex and George
Constandis
spoke
to one another through headphones. There were only two sets
of these and although George had offered a set to Charlotte
,
she had refused, knowing that he would have more to say to
her husband than she would herself.
      

About half an hour after take-off, the helicopter began to descend over an island situated on the rim of the group and
shaped not unlike the letter C. Two curved headlands sheltered
a bay which was almost landlocked, with only the narrowest
of channels between the two. Charlotte could see now how
impossible it was for any boat to land on the island, except
perhaps a launch piloted by someone who knew the rocky
channel and the currents present there.

The helicopter came in low over the bay and ahead of them
Charlotte could see a sickle-shaped beach with sand that was
bleached white by the sun.
Tussocky
grass surmounted
shallow cliffs and then lying directly below them she saw the
house. She guessed it was Alex's house. It was much bigger
than the several cottages that clung about the headland at this
side of the island, and its long low lines looked cool and
inviting. There were trees close by, firs and cypress and olive trees, and beyond the immediate environs of the house came
the sharp scent of a lemon grove.

The helicopter landed on wide lawns out back of the house,
and the distinctive roar of its motor and the whine of its
propellers brought several people out of doors to greet them. Three women in white aprons and a man dressed entirely in
black stood shading their eyes against the glare of the sun,
and Charlotte felt a tightening knot of nervousness inside her.
Of course, these people looked after the house. Foolishly,
she had not considered servants.

The propellers slowed, and Alex took off his earphones and
unfastened his seat straps. Then he slid back his door and
climbed out, extending a hand to assist Charlotte to alight.
She accepted his help reluctantly, putting her-hand into his with some misgivings, but the pressure he exerted was cool
and indifferent.

To her relief it was slightly cooler here, the breeze off the
water giving the air a deliriously salty tang. She looked away
to her left where the gentle undulation of the land gave way
to deeper water and couldn't suppress a surge of pleasure at
her surroundings. She had never seen anywhere more delight
ful, and the island at least lived up to her every expectation.

Then Alex was walking forward towards the small group gathered on the terrace beneath cool white columns of stone, and his expressive backward glance sent Charlotte hurrying
after him. Of the women, two were young and one was elderly, while the man was of middle years. They greeted Alex warmly,
shaking his hands and chattering away in their own tongue.
Nevertheless, their eyes, particularly those of the younger women, strayed often in Charlotte's direction and embarrass
ment swept over her again.

Then Alex drew her forward, his hand firm at her elbow. "Charlotte, I'd like you to meet our staff here at the Villa
Lydros
." To her surprise he turned to the man first, standing
to attention before them. "This is
Cristof
, our -
chef de cuisine."
The man bowed and he turned to the three women, the oldest first. "And this is Maria - and Sophia and Tina." The younger
women bobbed and Charlotte glanced helplessly at Alex,
but he was not looking at her.

"
Er
- how do you do?" she managed awkwardly, and the
two girls exchanged giggles.

Maria, probably the housekeeper, Charlotte thought, gave
them a quelling glare. Then she extended her hand to Char
lotte.
"
Kalispera
,
Kyria
Faulkner," she welcomed her politely.
"
Parakalo
.
Embros
."

Charlotte glanced at Alex once more and this time he
encountered her gaze. "Maria is asking you to enter the house,"
he told her quietly. "Go ahead. I must-Speak to
Constandis
before he leaves."

"He's leaving?" Charlotte's mouth was dry.

"This is supposed to be our honeymoon," remarked Alex
' dryly. Then he shook his head. "Go with Maria. You'll find she speaks quite reasonable English. They all do - I taught them myself."

With slightly nervous steps, Charlotte followed the old
woman across the cool terrace and into the house through
sliding glass doors. The coolness inside was almost chilling, and she realized that although the walls of the building were thick, this coolness was the result of a very efficient air-conditioning system.

A cool stone hall extended through to the front of the
house, widening here to run the length of the terrace. Arched
doorways opened off the hall giving tantalizing glimpses of white-walled rooms which relied for their
colour
on hand-woven tapestries and pottery in brilliant shades and designs.
Couches and chairs were mostly of leather or sheep and goat
skin, and self-
coloured
rugs were strewn across the polished
wood-blocked floors. Beyond the terrace at the front of the
house, Charlotte could see the cliffs and the curve of the bay,
and through the open doors she could hear the murmur of
the sea as it curled along the rock-strewn headland. The beach
she had seen from the air was hidden below the cliffs, but she
guessed there would be a path down to it.

Shallow steps out of the hall brought them to a slightly
higher level where a circular table and chairs with curved arms pronounced this to be the dining area. Although all the furnish
ings Charlotte had seen so far were plain arid functional, they had a certain style and elegance, fitting accoutrements to this spacious split-level bungalow that far surpassed anything she had imagined.

The old servant Maria said little, merely indicating a
particular tapestry here or a pottery urn spilling over with
exotic blossoms there; small evidence of her own pride in her
surroundings.

Beyond the dining area, another hall extended into the west
wing of the house. Here several doors were closed against
them, but Maria led the way confidently to the last of these,
and turning the handle ushered Charlotte into what she
guessed correctly to be the master bedroom.

It was an enormous room, but dominated by an equally enormous four-poster bed which occupied a central area.
Easily six feet across, and longer than average, it was flanked by furniture of comparable size — a huge tallboy, a massive
double wardrobe, and a dressing table with carved legs.
Long windows stood wide to the scents from the garden at the
side of the house, long wild silk curtains in a delicious shade
of green moving slightly with the breeze. The floor was wooden as before, but the rugs here were white and soft,
matching the silken covers on the bed.