goodand I’ll come back tomorrow. We’ll have extra help then, so I can stay longer. If you like.’
‘I’d like that very much! Thanks a lot, Alyssa.’
After concentrating for hours to make use of the light, Isobel was very tired by the time Spiro helped Milos take down the canopy. ‘Time to stop, kyria ,’ he said severely, taking charge of her painting materials. ‘Now you rest, then eat good dinner.’
It was a programme Isobel was only too glad to follow. She had a long shower, but felt so tired halfway through the meal she gave up and let Eleni help her to her room, scolding all the way because Isobel had been too weary to eat.
‘I bring tea,’ said the woman as they reached the room. ‘You go to bed now, ne ?’
‘Yes, Eleni,’ Isobel promised meekly, startled to feel suddenly cold in the evening breeze coming through the veranda doors. Shivering, she searched in her suitcase for a pair of leggings to go with her vest, and even pulled tennis socks over feet that were suddenly icy.
‘Too much sun, work too hard,’ said Eleni sternly when she returned with the tea. ‘You want blanket?’
‘No, I’ll be fine now, thank you. Goodnight, Eleni.’ Isobel drank the hot tea gratefully and settled back against the pillows.
Luke rang before she had time to wonder if he would. ‘How are you, Isobel?’
‘I’m in bed now, but I’ve had a busy day. I’ve been painting.’
‘I heard this. Out on the cliff edge,’ he said sternly.
‘I wanted a painting of the beach to take home as a souvenir.’
‘To remind you of Chyros—and me? I need no reminders,’ he said softly. ‘I shall never forget my beautiful trespasser.’
Good, thought Isobel, who had painted the watercolour with just that end in view. ‘How are your scrapes and scratches?’
‘Healing fast.’
‘Do you know why the man attacked you?’
‘Yes.’ His voice hardened. ‘After much persuasion, he told the police he was paid to wound me but not to kill. He insists he has no idea who paid him, but I refuse to believe this. The man is obviously too frightened to name names. He said the money and instructions were delivered to him by courier, along with threats to harm his children if he refused.’
‘Then, for heaven’s sake, take care, Luke,’ warned Isobel, startled. ‘Whoever paid him might find someone else to hurt you even more. Is there good security where you live?’
‘The best. The building I live in has every security device known to man. I have excellent security staff, also temporary police protection. But as soon as I can I shall return to Chyros, where no hurt ever comes to me.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
I T WAS a long time before Isobel slept. She felt worried because Luke was in danger, and even more worried because she felt that way. Don’t go there, she warned herself forcibly. She was just about getting over the recent hateful episode. Only a fool would lay herself open to more emotional trauma. Especially with a man who lived his life to a very different set of rules from hers. She tossed and turned endlessly, but when heavy, exhausted sleep overtook her at last she was jolted out of it into a waking nightmare by rough hands which dragged her out of bed, her terrified scream smothered by a pungent cloth clamped over her face.
When Isobel opened her eyes again she felt icy-cold as she stared up into a starlit sky. She could hear an insistent put-putting noise, but instead of fear her knee-jerk reaction was sheer bloody-minded anger when she found she was tied up. Other people had nice package holidays, uneventful except for lost luggage, plane delays and sunburn, while so far hers had been one disaster after another. But burning resentment swiftly morphed into the cold chill of fear as she identified the noise. It was an outboard motor and she was not only in the bottom of a boat, but trussed up like an oven-ready chicken. How long had she been unconscious? And where onearth was she being taken? Even more
‘I’d like that very much! Thanks a lot, Alyssa.’
After concentrating for hours to make use of the light, Isobel was very tired by the time Spiro helped Milos take down the canopy. ‘Time to stop, kyria ,’ he said severely, taking charge of her painting materials. ‘Now you rest, then eat good dinner.’
It was a programme Isobel was only too glad to follow. She had a long shower, but felt so tired halfway through the meal she gave up and let Eleni help her to her room, scolding all the way because Isobel had been too weary to eat.
‘I bring tea,’ said the woman as they reached the room. ‘You go to bed now, ne ?’
‘Yes, Eleni,’ Isobel promised meekly, startled to feel suddenly cold in the evening breeze coming through the veranda doors. Shivering, she searched in her suitcase for a pair of leggings to go with her vest, and even pulled tennis socks over feet that were suddenly icy.
‘Too much sun, work too hard,’ said Eleni sternly when she returned with the tea. ‘You want blanket?’
‘No, I’ll be fine now, thank you. Goodnight, Eleni.’ Isobel drank the hot tea gratefully and settled back against the pillows.
Luke rang before she had time to wonder if he would. ‘How are you, Isobel?’
‘I’m in bed now, but I’ve had a busy day. I’ve been painting.’
‘I heard this. Out on the cliff edge,’ he said sternly.
‘I wanted a painting of the beach to take home as a souvenir.’
‘To remind you of Chyros—and me? I need no reminders,’ he said softly. ‘I shall never forget my beautiful trespasser.’
Good, thought Isobel, who had painted the watercolour with just that end in view. ‘How are your scrapes and scratches?’
‘Healing fast.’
‘Do you know why the man attacked you?’
‘Yes.’ His voice hardened. ‘After much persuasion, he told the police he was paid to wound me but not to kill. He insists he has no idea who paid him, but I refuse to believe this. The man is obviously too frightened to name names. He said the money and instructions were delivered to him by courier, along with threats to harm his children if he refused.’
‘Then, for heaven’s sake, take care, Luke,’ warned Isobel, startled. ‘Whoever paid him might find someone else to hurt you even more. Is there good security where you live?’
‘The best. The building I live in has every security device known to man. I have excellent security staff, also temporary police protection. But as soon as I can I shall return to Chyros, where no hurt ever comes to me.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
I T WAS a long time before Isobel slept. She felt worried because Luke was in danger, and even more worried because she felt that way. Don’t go there, she warned herself forcibly. She was just about getting over the recent hateful episode. Only a fool would lay herself open to more emotional trauma. Especially with a man who lived his life to a very different set of rules from hers. She tossed and turned endlessly, but when heavy, exhausted sleep overtook her at last she was jolted out of it into a waking nightmare by rough hands which dragged her out of bed, her terrified scream smothered by a pungent cloth clamped over her face.
When Isobel opened her eyes again she felt icy-cold as she stared up into a starlit sky. She could hear an insistent put-putting noise, but instead of fear her knee-jerk reaction was sheer bloody-minded anger when she found she was tied up. Other people had nice package holidays, uneventful except for lost luggage, plane delays and sunburn, while so far hers had been one disaster after another. But burning resentment swiftly morphed into the cold chill of fear as she identified the noise. It was an outboard motor and she was not only in the bottom of a boat, but trussed up like an oven-ready chicken. How long had she been unconscious? And where onearth was she being taken? Even more
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