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Authors: Sara Craven,Chieko Hara

Tags: #Comics & Graphic Novels, #Graphic Novels, #Romance

PAGAN ADVERSARY (14 page)

BOOK: PAGAN ADVERSARY
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know how to operate?'

The sardonic note was not lost on her, and she groaned inwardly.

'If it has been inadvertently switched off,' he went on, 'you need only

have rung the bell for Androula or one of the maids. They would have

rectified matters for you—although naturally it is flattering that once

again you turn to me in your dilemma.'

'I have not turned to you,' said Harriet between her teeth. 'It never

occurred to me that you would be down here, or anywhere except

your own room, for that matter. I thought you were complaining of

jet-lag,' she added.

Alex lifted a shoulder, still gleaming with moisture, in a shrug. 'So I

was. I came down here with my brandy earlier and fell asleep. When I

woke, I decided to take a swim before going back to the villa.' He

gave her a cynical smile. 'Had I known I was to have Such charming

company I would have waited, Harriet
mou,
and we could have swum

together.'

She was aware she was being baited, and her fingers clenched tensely

in the concealing folds of her peignoir. She said steadily, 'I've tried to

explain that I didn't mean to intrude. I think I'd better return to my

room.'

'Perhaps you should,' he agreed mockingly. 'But stay and have some

brandy with me first.' He poured some - into another goblet and held

it out to her compellingly, daring her to refuse.

Moving reluctantly, Harriet crossed the short distance from the

archway to the table beside which Alex was standing, and accepted

the goblet from him. As she took it, his fingers brushed hers and her

whole body flinched from the slight contact.

She swallowed, struggling to control the leaping of her pulses. She

was playing with fire, and she knew it. The villa no longer seemed an

airless prison, but a sanctuary that she wished she had never left.

Alex lifted his glass in silent toast, his dark eyes brilliant with

amusement as they slid over her. 'This scene has a certain familiarity,'

he said. 'Surely you did not borrow this --' his hand tugged gently at a

fold of the peignoir—'from Yannina?'

'Of course not!' Harriet's embarrassment increased with every second.

The last thing she wanted to be reminded of was that confrontation in

the bathroom in London, and she heard Alex laugh softly as if he

could sense her uneasiness. Her fingers tightened round the stem of

her glass, and she bent her head to take a hasty gulp of the brandy,

letting her hair curtain her face as she did so.

'Gently!' Alex removed the glass from her grasp and replaced it on the

table. 'Brandy should be treated with more respect, especially when

you are not used to it.'

Harriet felt obscurely irritated by his assumption that five-star brandy

was not her usual nightcap. She wished she could have denied it, she

wished she could have claimed the sort of sophistication which could

take in its stride a moonlit drink with a half-naked man in the

caressing warmth of an Ionian night, but it was impossible. She was

completely and totally out of her depth, and she knew that he knew it

too.

'You—you have a very beautiful home,' she ventured, aiming for a

casual tone.

'I am glad that it meets with your approval. Perhaps your stay here

will not be such an ordeal after all.'

'Perhaps not.' Harriet's tone was wooden, and she refused to meet his

gaze. 'I think I'll go in now.'

He laughed. 'Enough air—enough brandy, or simply enough of me?

Harriet
mou,
which is it?'

'A little of each,' she said tautly, and made to turn away, but his hand

reached out, his fingers fastening firmly on the soft flesh above her

elbow, making her pause.

'What a little coward you are,' he said softly. 'You tried to make me

believe you were mature enough to have sole charge of my nephew,

but in reality you are little more than a scared child.'

'If that's the case, please let me return to my nursery.'

'Later.' His tone didn't alter. 'When you have learned to be less afraid.'

His skin was incredibly cool under her fainting fingertips as he drew

her close.

She said, 'Please—no. . . .' but it was already too late. His mouth felt

cool too, but his kiss burned like a brand, searingly possessive. She

was trembling, her body friable as melting wax in his arms, achingly

defenceless in her response. Alex moulded her against the length of

his body, making her shakingly aware of every inch of bone, sinew

and muscle, her sensual consciousness heightened by his lack of

clothing. Her lips parted helplessly beneath his demand, her head

spinning, her pulses thudding at the sheer ruthlessness of his

domination over her. A voice in her head was crying out in protest,

even as her senses melted, urging her to accede to anything he might

ask of her.

He tore his mouth from hers, muttering something harshly in his own

language, then began to kiss her throat, his lips sensuous, caressing

the soft skin as lightly as the brush of a feather, lingering with

deliberation on her hammering pulse. His fingers tugged impatiently

at the ribbon bow at her throat, loosening it, before pushing aside her

peignoir and the strap of her nightdress, baring her shoulder to his

kiss.

A little husky sigh escaped her as his mouth explored the curve of her

shoulder. She felt his hand at her waist, unfastening the other bow,

then sliding inside as the edges of the peignoir fell completely apart,

down the slender length of her body to her hip. His fingers stroked its

gentle swell, then glided inwards and down, discovering the sharp

vulnerable line of bone.

Harriet's throat was dry, her whole body poised, almost convulsed

with thick excitement. Alex's lips were travelling downwards too, his

tongue curling seductively into the hollow between her breasts,

making her shiver with pleasure. The voice in her head was silent

now, entirely subjected, to the need he had aroused in her. His mouth

returned to hers in another long, drugging kiss, and she felt his arm

glide down under her knees, lifting her off her feet and bodily into his

arms. Then she was aware of the softness of cushions beneath her,

and realised he had carried her over to one of the nearby loungers, and

some semblance of sanity began to return.

He was lying beside her on the wide deeply padded seat, his breathing

harsh, his dark face almost terrifyingly intent as he bent over her.

Cool, practised fingers slid up her thigh brushing aside the hem of her

nightgown. And suddenly, her excitement was intermingled with

panic. It was all too far and too fast—way beyond anything her

previous all too limited experience had prepared her for. She snatched

at his hand, gasping, 'No!'

Alex said softly, 'Don't be a little fool. You knew when you came

down here tonight what you were inviting, so why pretend?'

His head lowered towards her. If he kissed her again, she would be

lost, Harriet thought wildly, twisting away from him.

She said, 'I didn't follow you—I told you why I was here. Please let

me go,' she added in a stifled undertone. 'Please—Alex!'

His smile was mirthless as he looked down at her. 'So—you use my

name at last. I wondered what it would take for you to do so, and now

I know. But perhaps I do not please. What then?'

Harriet shook her head miserably. 'I—I just don't know. I—I'm sorry.'

'Why? Nothing happened.' His tone was ironic, dismissive, as he

turned away from her and sat up, swinging his long legs to the floor.

'Or is that why you are sorry?' he added bitingly.

Harriet's hands shook as she retied the ribbons on her peignoir into

untidy bows. 'You know what I meant,' she muttered.

'Yes,' he agreed wearily, 'I know. Let me give you some good advice,

Harriet
mou.
Don't create situations you are not prepared—or

equipped—to handle.'

'I didn't.' She was close to tears suddenly, knocked off her centre of

balance, her emotions in turmoil, and her body hungry for the

fulfilment it had been denied. She got to her feet, glaring at him.

'Whether you believe me or not, I did not follow you down here. I

came out for a walk because I couldn't sleep and... .'

'And you think either of us will sleep now?' he questioned harshly,

and she flushed, her eyes sliding away from his sardonic gaze.

'I think I'd better go indoors,' she said in a low voice.

'I think so too—before I forget again why I brought you here.' There

was more than a trace of grimness in his voice. He readjusted the

towel he was wearing more firmly, then gestured Harriet to precede

him through the archway. She hung back.

'I can find my own way,' she protested.

'I don't doubt it, but it happens that I have also had my fill of—fresh

air,' he said mockingly.

'You've forgotten your clothes,' she pointed out in a small voice.

'No,' he laughed softly. 'I sleep as I swim, my little English prude. The

clothes I took off will be collected, laundered and returned to me

later.'

Harriet was fiercely, painfully aware of him as they made their way

back to the house. They were the only ones awake, she was sure, but

nevertheless it seemed that dozens of eyes were watching them from

behind the dark, shuttered windows as they approached. They

re-entered the house the way Harriet had left it, and she paused as

Alex closed the window and applied the bolt.

'Well—goodnight,' she said awkwardly.

'Not so fast,' he said. 'Don't you want me to show you how the

air-conditioning works, or do you intend to spend the rest of the night

going for walks in the garden?'

Harriet groaned inwardly. The last thing she wanted was Alex

coming to her room on any pretext whatever, but on the other hand

she could hardly tell him that the lack of air no longer bothered her

when she had made such a point of it.

'Thank you,' she said woodenly. He followed her silently up the stairs

and along the gallery to the passage leading to her room.

As they passed Nicky's room, Alex detained her, a hand on her arm.

'Have you forgotten where you are sleeping?' he demanded in an

undertone, frowning slightly as he looked at her.

'No.' Harriet shook her head. 'Mine's the next door.'

'The next one?' The frown deepened. 'But that's nothing but....' He

stopped as Harriet opened the door, and pushed past her, standing

looking around him, hands on hips, in an ominous silence.

At
last he said very softly, 'Who
told you that you were to
sleep here?'

Harriet shrugged. 'It's the room next to Nicky's. I—I was just shown

here.'

'Then I must apologise to you. This is not, as you may have gathered,

a guest-room. It is small wonder that you could not sleep—or even

breathe.' He paused, then said bleakly, 'My orders must have been

misunderstood. If you will come with me, I will see that you are

accommodated more comfortably for the remainder of the night.'

'Oh, no.' Harriet hung back. 'It's all right, really. I don't mind --'

'But I do,' Alex said inexorably. 'Be so good as to follow me.'

He turned and strode out without bothering to see if she was going to

obey or not. For a moment, Harriet hesitated, then reluctantly she

picked up her toilet bag and followed him.

She caught up with him, just as he was turning out of the corridor.

'I—I don't want to be too far from Nicky.'

'For tonight that cannot be helped,' he said. 'Tomorrow I will see that

suitable arrangements are made for you.'

The room he took her to was on the other side of the villa, and it could

not have presented a greater contrast to the one she had just left. It

was quite enormous, dominated by a huge divan bed, made up with

crisp fresh linen, its handwoven coverlet turned back neatly at the

foot. Matching curtains in the same creamy shade hung at the

windows, and luxurious fur rugs provided islands of comfort on the

cool tiled floor. The bed was surmounted by an elaborate headboard

in some dark antique wood, heavily carved and patterned, and

flanked by two low tables, their borders and legs carved into an

identical pattern. Tall terra-cotta lamps with cream shades stood on

the tables, and above each of them, set into the wall, was a console

with various knobs and switches, controlling the air-conditioning, the

lights, a concealed radio, and even a bell to summon a servant.

'When you are ready for breakfast in the morning, just ring,' Alex

directed casually. He glanced round. 'I hope you will be comfortable.'

'I'm sure I shall,' Harriet said rather shyly. 'Thank you, Alex.'

'You have nothing to thank me for,' he said curtly. 'I am only sorry

that you should have been given such a poor impression of our

BOOK: PAGAN ADVERSARY
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