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"
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,
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"
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,
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