Dark Apollo Page 3

  Camilla eyed them with misgiving. 'There's no need...'

  'There is every need,' he contradicted flatly. 'This is not England, Kyria Dryden, Grazes such as this carry a risk of infection, and need immediate attention.'

  He knelt beside the sofa, his face coolly intent, soaking a swab of cotton wool in the antiseptic solution.

  Camilla wanted to draw away. He was altogether too close for comfort, she thought, dry-mouthed, as she absorbed the clean, fresh scent of his sun-warmed skin, His bare shoulder brushed against her knee, and she felt a sharp pang deep inside her that had nothing to do with pain.

  She said huskily, 'No—please...'

  He gave her a look of withering contempt and began to swab the dirt and grains of gravel from her leg. She bit her lip, her body tautening instinctively at his touch.

  He looked up at her, his mouth slanting sar­donically. 'If it's only a graze, thespinis, you're not being very brave about it.'

  She said between her teeth, "Maybe I'd prefer to wait for the doctor.’

  He shrugged. 'The Hippocratic oath is not needed for simple first aid.’ he returned. 'I am not enjoying this either, Kyria Dryden.'

  The oath, she thought, that the medical pro­fession still used. 'I swear by Apollo...' And Apollo himself was here, or so it seemed, kneeling at her feet.

  He was deft enough, and even quite gentle, she was forced to admit, but some of the dirt was deeply embedded, and there were tears in her eyes before he'd finished, although she kept her teeth firmly fastened in her bottom lip.

  But the smarting was only part of it, she realised. The truth was she didn't want to accept this kind of intimate service from him.

  When he had cleaned her arm, he hesitated. 'The shirt is already ruined, I think, so…’ He put two fingers in the jagged tear at the side, and ripped it completely down to the hem.

  Camilla gasped, dragging the torn edges together. 'How dare you... ?' Her voice was unsteady. For one brief instant, his fingers had brashed the curve of her bare breast, and his touch had scalded her.

  'So modest?' His voice taunted. 'Your fellow-tourists show more on our beaches every day.’

  'But I don't,’ she said huskily.

  The old woman stepped forward, gesturing him imperatively out of the way. With another shrug, he got to his feet, and walked to the window, turning his back while Camilla's scraped ribs were bathed.

  'Arianna,' he tossed over his shoulder, 'you will provide Kyria Dryden with a blouse from your wardrobe as a temporary measure.'

  'Of course, I shall be pleased. She can come upstairs to my room, and choose. Petros can examine her there too.'

  He frowned. 'Is that necessary?'

  'But of course.' Arianna Xandreou looked scandalised. 'Such a procedure requires privacy.'

  His frown deepened. 'Then stay with her— all the time, you understand?'

  He'd spoken in English, so presumably Camilla wasn't to be left in any doubt either.

  'What the hell are you implying?' she demanded.

  ‘I intend to ensure you do not turn this ac­cident to your advantage, thespinis!’

  'What do you think I'm going to do—steal something?' Camilla pulled away from the old woman's restraining hand, her eyes blazing. sGod, you've an almighty nerve.'

  'And I think the same of you, thespinis. You will play no tricks in this house.'

  Her lips were parting to tell him unequivo­cally what she thought of him, when the door opened and a young man, swarthy and stockily built, wearing glasses, walked in. He paused, surveying the tableau in front of him.

  ‘I understand I have a new patient,' he re­marked. 'A road accident, ne? Thank you, Eleni.’ The old woman stepped back, and he inspected her handiwork critically, and nodded. 'You are lucky, thespinis. I have known similar incidents where skin grafts have been needed. But you, I think, will be left without a sear, A shot, maybe, to protect against infection and you will be as good as new.’

  Spiro Xandreou took him to one side, and said something softly in Greek:

  ‘Po, po, po! The doctor's brows lifted sharply. Then I should examine without delay. Eleni can act as chaperon.’

  "This is ridiculous.’ Camilla protested. ‘I’m fine.’

  The doctor smiled at her. ‘I’m sure that is true. You seem a perfectly healthy young womaa. But your pregnancy is in its early stages. We need to establish that all is well.'

  "Pregnancy?' Camilla stared at him stupidly. 'What are you talking about? I'm not pregnant.’

  'So you lied,’ Spiro Xandreou's voice was almost gloating. 'I knew it.’ He walked to the door of the saloni, and threw it wide, his face a mask of icy anger. ‘You will leave my house, thespinis, and not come back.’

  His voice dropped to pure menace. "And you will never trouble me or mine again. That is, if you know what's good for you. Now go.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  Camilla stared at him.

  She said quietly, 'I think you must be insane, Kyrios Xandreou. Or has your womanising now reached such proportions that you can't even tell one girl from another?'

  'How dare you speak to me like that?' His voice was molten. 'How dare you...?’

  Camilla met his gaze. Eyes dark as obsidian, she thought with a strange clarity, and as hard as flint. But with a small flame burning...

  Just as she was burning inside.

  'Oh, I dare.' She drew a deep angry breath. 'Because it wasn't me that you—seduced and abandoned in Athens a few months ago. It was my younger sister, Katie.' A sob rose in her throat. 'And you can't even remember what she really looks like—you bastard.’

  Her words fell into a silence so profound it was almost tangible.

  It was broken by the doctor, his face ex­pressionless. 'I think, my dear Nic, there has been some misunderstanding. Now, if you'll excuse me, I will go up to my other patient.’

  As he turned away, Camilla caught his arm. 'Just a moment—please. You called this man— Nic?'

  ‘Ne, thespinis. Is something wrong?'

  She swallowed. 'You mean—he's not— Spiro?’

  The doctor looked astonished. 'Spiro is Kyrios Xandreou's younger brother, thespinis. He was also injured In an accident, a short while ago, rather more seriously than yourself. In fact, I should be with him now. If you will call at the clinic in town tomorrow morning, I will prescribe some medication for you—as a precaution only, you understand,' he added kindly, misunderstanding the sudden pallor of her face. 'Infection breeds fast in our climate.'

  He nodded briskly, and left the room, Arianna sliding after him.

  Camilla found herself alone with Nic Xandreou.

  She ran the tip of her tongue round her dry lips. 'You thought I was Katie,' she said. 'I thought you were Spiro. We've been at cross purposes from the start.’

  'So it would seem.' His voice was even.

  'But Katie's only just eighteen,' she pro­tested. 'You must have known I was older than that.'

  He shrugged. 'I thought Spiro had been de­ceived.' His glance flicked over her. 'There was also the initial on your shirt—a C, presumably for Catherine.’

  She said quietly, 'My name is Camilla.' She looked down at the tiled floor. ‘I’ve said some pretty harsh things. I'm sorry, but I was just so upset for Katie.'

  'You are loyal to your family,' he returned flatly. 'I don't blame you for that. It's a quality I share.'

  'Was Spiro badly hurt in the accident?' she asked in a low voice.

  He shrugged again. 'He has a broken leg and a bump on the head. Time and rest will cure them both.’

  She tried a small smile. 'Well, it could have been very much worse.’ She paused. 'That's why he never turned up at the airport. I just wish someone had let us know. Katie will be so relieved when she knows the truth.’ She waited, but he said nothing.

  She tried again. 'I'll go straight back to the hotel, and explain.’

  'Not,' he said, 'like that, I think.’

  She realised where his gaze was directed and dragged
the torn edges of her top together again, flushing.

  'Well, perhaps not.’

  He said curtly, 'I will take you to my sister's room. Come.’

  Camilla took a step forward and faltered, her legs shaking under her.

  He turned at the door, staring back at her. 'What now?' he demanded impatiently.

  'Just reaction, I think.’ She tried to force a smile. 'If you could—give me a moment.’

  He muttered something succinct and angry under his breath, and came striding back. Before she could guess what he intended, he had swung her off her feet into his arms, and was carrying her across the saloni and out into a large hall.

  'What the hell are you doing?' Camilla gasped furiously. She braced her hands against his chest, but it was like trying to overturn a brick wall. Except no wall had ever beee so warm—so smooth—so sensuous to the touch. She could feel, she realised with an unnerving tingle of awareness, his heart beating under her fingers…

  She said breathlessly, ‘Put me down at once.'

  'Be still,’ he snapped back.

  He was very strong. She was slim, but no featherweight, yet he went up the wide, shallow sweep of the marble staircase without a pause.

  In the gallery above, he shouldered open a door and went in. It was a large, light room, all pale wood and floating pastel drapes. Arianna was not there, and Nic Xandreou clicked his tongue in sharp annoyance before depositing Camilla without particular gentleness on the edge of the wide, soft bed.

  She watched him walk to the tall wardrobes which lined one wall, and fling open a door. He took a shirt, classic in heavy white silk, from a hanger and tossed it to her.

  'You can use this,’ he ordained.

  ‘I think I'll stay as I am,’ she returned quickly. The shirt was clearly very expensive, and the thought of having to struggle to remove her ripped top over her sore shoulder and arm didn't appeal at all. There were some pins in her bag, she remembered. She could make herself decent until she had Katie to help her change.

  Nic Xandreou frowned slightly. 'You are in pain?' he guessed.

  'Stiffening up a little,’ she admitted.

  Nic extended his arms in front of him. 'Can you still do this?'

  ‘I think so.' Camilla raised her own arms slightly in imitation.

  Nic leaned down, and in one swift movement whipped the torn top over her head and off, baring her to the waist.

  ‘Oh.’ Camilla snatched up Arianna's shirt, and held it as a shield in front of her naked breasts, as a wave of frantic embarrassed colour engulfed her. ‘How—how dare you?'

  'There was no question of daring,' He sounded almost bored. ‘You needed as­sistance, and there was no one else.'

  'But that doesn't give you the right...'

  A faint smile twisted the corners of the firm mouth. He said softly, 'In my house, Kyria Camilla, I assume whatever rights I choose. Now, I will await you downstairs.’

  At the door, he paused, looking back at hers the smile deepening with disturbing mockery.

  He said, 'I am glad to know you will not be scarred. Your body is very beautiful.'

  And he walked out of the room, leaving Camilla, lips parted in shock, staring after him.

  It took her a while to recover her com­posure. She had never been treated like that in her life before—never been made to feel so vulnerable—so frighteningly aware of her womanhood.

  Nic Xandreou wasn't just a powerful and at­tractive man, she decided grimly. He was dangerous in all kinds of ways she'd never envisaged.

  She might have said some harsh things to him, but he'd more than redressed the balance with that parting shot of his, she thought as she struggled into Arianna's shirt, her fingers fumbling the silk-covered buttons into their holes.

  From now on she would be ultra-careful in any dealings she had with him.

  There was a tiny tiled shower-room opening from the bedroom, which also contained a washbasin. Looking in the mirror, Camilla realised for the first time that her face was smeared with dirt from her fall, and her hair was tangled and dusty, and she found that she wanted very much to burst into tears.

  But that was just foolish weakness, she told herself as she washed swiftly and dragged a comb through her hair. For a moment, she was half tempted to leave it loose on her shoulders. It framed her face appealingly, making her look softer—more relaxed, she thought, lifting some of the heavy chestnut strands in her fingers.

  She stopped right there. What on earth was she thinking of? She wasn't there to relax, or make any kind of impression—particularly on someone like Nic Xandreou, she thought with self-disgust. She pulled her hair back severely, securing it almost savagely with the barrette.

  She came out on to the gallery and stood for a moment, looking around her. There were a number of other doors on both sides of her, all inimically closed, and between them alcoves had been carved into the walls to display special ceramics and other precious objects.

  Camilla's eye was caught by one figurine in particular, and she walked down the gallery to take a closer look. It was a bronze, about three feet high, of a young man with a face as proud and beautiful as an eagle's.

  The god Apollo, she wondered, or just the owner of the house, and could anyone tell the difference anyway? But it was a powerful and arresting piece, to say the least.

  In fact, the whole villa was quite mag­nificent, she thought, and maybe that was the trouble—because it was more a showplace than a home, expensive but oddly cold and empty.

  She heard the sound of an opening door, and turned to see Arianna and the doctor emerging together from one of the rooms. They walked away from her towards the stairs, too absorbed in conversation to notice her, and disappeared downstairs and out of sight.

  So that must be Spiro's room, she realised, swallowing. Spiro whom she'd never even seen.

  Impulsively, she went to the door, and knocked. There was a pause then a weary voice said, 'Peraste,’ and she went in.

  Spiro Xandreou was lying on a couch near tall windows opening on to a balcony. He was a younger, gentler version of his brother, his good looks muted by pain and shock. He was leaning back, his eyes closed, and the snowy cast on his leg, coupled with the greyness be­neath his tanned skin, gave him an air of acute vulnerability.

  She said quietly, 'Spiro?' and he opened dazed dark eyes and stared at her.

  'Pya iste?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’m Camilla—Katie's sister.' She smiled at him. 'We arrived on Karthos today to look for you.’

  He went on staring at her, his brows drawing together. 'Then sas katalaveno,’ he said. 'I do not understand,' he added in English. 'What do you want?'

  'I've come here with Katie,' she said. 'She must have mentioned me.'

  He shook his head, his anxious look deepening. 'I do not know you. I do not know any Katie.’

  Camilla's heart sank. 'Of course you do.' She tried to sound encouraging. 'You met her in Athens at Easter, and you were coming to London to see her. Only you had this accident, so we've come to you instead.'

  'What are you saying?' His voice rose. 'Who are you?'

  As Camilla hesitated, uncertain how to proceed, the door behind her was flung open, and Nic Xandreou's voice, molten with anger, said, 'This is intolerable, thespinis. My brother must have peace. How dare you intrude on him?’

  He took her sound arm, and urged her out of the room, not gently.

  Camilla tried to hang back as she was hustled towards the stairs.

  'I'm sorry if I've trespassed in some way,’ she said. 'But it was Spiro, after all, I came here to see in the first place.’

  'In my house you see no one without my permission.'

  Camilla lifted her chin. 'And, if I'd asked for permission, would it have been given?'

  ‘No,’ he said curtly. ‘I only hope your intervention has done no actual harm.'

  'I fail to see how a few words from me could affect a broken leg,' she said angrily. ‘I know you're concerned about him, but I have my sister
to think of.' She paused. 'I also thought Spiro might appreciate some news of her.’

  'And did he?'

  'Well, no,’ Camilla found herself being es­corted swiftly and inexorably out of the house, with no chance of saying goodbye to Arianna or asking the doctor about Spiro's condition., she realised with vexation. 'He seemed— confused.’

  Nic's firm mouth tightened as he assisted her without particular finesse into the passenger seat of a serviceable-looking Jeep waiting at the front entrance. Her bag, she saw, was waiting for her on the seat, depriving her of any excuse to return. He seemed to think of everything.

  'Spiro's recovery will not be assisted by any kind of harassment,’ Nic Xandreou said as he started the engine.

  Camilla sighed. 'I truly didn't intend that. I just wanted to say—hello.’

  'Well, now you have done so,’ he said dismissively. 'So let that be an end to it.'

  But it couldn't be the end? Camilla thought as the Jeep swung down the drive. It was only the beginning...

  She stiffened as she caught sight of the scooter at the side of the road. 'Oh, what am I going to do about that?’

  'You will do nothing,’ he said grimly. 'I have examined the machine, and it was not fit to be on the road even before the accident. Where did you get it?'

  'From someone called Andonis.' She produced the card from her bag. 'I got this from the hotel.’

  He shot it a frowning glance. 'Ah, yes, the Dionysius. Of course.’ He hit the steering-wheel with an exasperated fist. ‘I should have known. How many times has he been warned in the past?' He shook his head. 'Never again.’

  'I'll go along with that. No matter what it costs, I'll rent a car.’

  ‘You intend to remain on Karthos?' He shot her an unsmiling look.

  ‘Of course. Katie will naturally want to spend every moment with Spiro, and I can enjoy a normal holiday.’

  He said bleakly, £I regret that will not be possible.’

  'Why—does Karthos only cater for eccen­trics?' Camilla tried to make a feeble joke, to dispel the sudden cold feeling inside her.

  'It would be better for you to return to your own country, and take your sister with you.’