Sandra's hands clenched as she tried to steel herself not to notice his sarcasm. 'I don't want your grandmother to think I'm encouraging you to go against her wishes. You do look tired.'
'Perhaps you are the one who tires me,' he sneered, 'with your pretence of virtuous reluctance. Oh, and by the way,' he paused, looking back over his shoulder as he left her, 'we'd better act a bit more lover-like in my grandmother's presence. If she were to discover the truth I would have even less peace than I have now.'
The next morning Sandra rose early after a restless night and decided to explore the beach. Stein had warned her not to try and swim on her own as the beach here shelved steeply into the sea and, apart from this, the water in April could still be quite cold. She would be wiser, he had added, to stick to the pool in the garden behind the house.
This morning, however, Sandra felt the turbulence of the sea would more match her mood than a flaccid, man-made pool, and it was with some determination that she searched for the way to the beach. To her surprise she couldn't find any kind of path down through the rocks. Last night the beach had looked so near; now she saw this wasn't so and that the cliff face might be dangerous. Eventually, throwing discretion to the winds, she began scrambling downwards, recklessly disregarding the stones and crags covered with sharp edges and spiky plants, until she arrived at her goal.
Once on the beach she stared at the cuts and scratches on her pale hands with a resigned shrug. Freshly made, they were not as painful as they might be later, but she resolved to forget about them. After all, on such a beautiful morning, what were a few scratches? Turning, she gazed back up the hillside, where the wild spring flowers of Greece lay like a carpet, and wondered how such beauty could conceal such a treacherous terrain. More despondently she wandered a little way along the beach before ruefully climbing back up the almost vertical face. At the top it was no comfort to discover her dress almost as torn as her hands. In future she would stick to her jeans for such expeditions, otherwise, what with one thing and another, she was going to have very few dresses left!
To her despair it was much later when she got back to her bedroom than she had thought, and her heart sank when she surveyed the true damage to her hands and wondered what Stein would say. He couldn't see, but if she was unable to type properly then there was every chance he might find out. Quickly she washed the deep cuts in warm water, but had nothing to apply to them, and no time now to seek out Thimios or Katrina to beg some ointment which might soothe them.
As best as she could she changed into a fresh dress, pushing her soiled one out of sight. She had no idea of laundry arrangements at the villa but didn't want to bother anyone about this on her first day. Katrina must have enough to do with extra people to look after.
In the study, to which a hovering Thimios directed her, she found Stein waiting, with his usual impatience. For a long moment she gazed at him, not really hearing when he derided her for being late. He wore dark slacks with a white shirt. The trousers fitted his hips and strong thighs closely and were belted neatly to his lean waist. A cold thrill stiffened Sandra's spine as she remembered how it had felt to be held close to him, to feel
her own slender limbs pressed tight against his taut muscles,
'I'm sorry,' she said at last, conscious he was waiting for some explanation, 'I'll try not to be late in future.'
'Please do,' he warned coldly, picking up his first chapter which he wanted to revise. 'I would like you to read this back to me and make a note of any changes in the margin. Afterwards you might have to retype some pages, but I hope not all.'
'As you like,' Sandra agreed nervously, trying to ignore her stinging hands.
'You have a delightful speaking voice,' he went on abstractedly. 'I believe it would be a good idea if you were to record each chapter as we go along. Then I need simply play it back for the final revision, as by the time the book is finished you probably won't be with me anymore.'
CHAPTER FIVE
As Stein spoke Sandra felt her cheeks pale as she remembered the old saying that fate has a nasty habit of giving us what we think we most desire. Two weeks ago all she had wanted was to escape this man, but now she only longed to stay with him and, to her shame, had through the night thought she might be willing to do so in any capacity he demanded.
This morning, as his harsh words speared through her, she felt herself flinch while even yet being unable to accept that she could have come to care so much in so short a time.
She nodded silently as, when the silence continued, he asked if this would suit her. Then, realising he couldn't see, she said hastily that it would, adding, 'If you think I can manage?'
'Naturally. If I hadn't thought so I wouldn't have suggested it,' he replied tersely, and she sensed his impatience was not so much with her as his changed circumstances which forced him to work this way.
'It's an awful shame!' she burst out, her voice thick with tears of pity.
'Sandra, for heaven's sake!' he snapped. 'Haven't I told you before I don't want your pity? As it is, your sympathy is probably only prompted by a guilty conscience and that kind of condolence is no good to me or anyone. Now, if you're quite finished trying to impress me with tears, might we make a start? For a secretary you've a bit too much to say.
Thereafter they worked steadily, but when Thimios knocked on the door two hours later, Sandra sensed his relief. 'Guests have arrived,' Thimios informed Stein. 'Madame wishes you to come to the salon.'
'Very well.' Stein made no protest at such an imperious summons but evidently had no intention of asking Sandra to accompany him. 'You'd better start retyping those half dozen
pages,' he instructed. 'I'll see you at lunch.'
Lunch? Sandra shrugged ruefully, as the door closed behind him and she recalled, although it had been no one's fault but her own, that she hadn't yet had breakfast. Nor had she had so much as a cup of coffee, and suddenly she longed for one. In fact she doubted if she could begin to work again without one. Her fingers were now stinging so fiercely it might be difficult to type, and she felt rather sick.
Greatly daring, she pressed the bell and to her surprise Thimios came almost immediately. She had thought he might be looking after the visitors. 'You wanted me, Miss Sandra?'
'Yes,' the friendliness in his voice comforted her oddly, 'I wondered if I might have some coffee and perhaps a biscuit?'
His brown eyes were anxious. 'You didn't eat breakfast, but Katrina says, when I speak of it, that English ladies today often do not.'
Sandra smiled ruefully and she could see he thought she agreed, but better this than that he should guess the truth. In the morning she would have to pretend her appetite had been miraculously restored.
When he returned with a tray a few minutes later, she thanked him warmly but gave a start of dismay when he noticed her hands. Silently she blessed herself for not remembering to keep them out of sight. It's nothing to worry about, Thimios. I scratched them on the cliffs when I was out earlier. Perhaps Katrina has a little ointment she could let me have?'
Thimios frowned and hurried away and when he came back Stein was with him. Immediately Stein ordered her to let him see her now hidden fingers.
Knowing very well what he meant, she threw Thimios an angry look as she jumped clumsily to her feet, thrusting her hand into the pockets of her cotton dress.
It was foolish trying to evade him. With a muttered expletive he was beside her, with an accuracy of direction which amazed her, grasping her tightly before his fingers moved with surprising gentleness over hers.
But there was nothing compassionate about his voice. 'Where did you do this?'
'If Thimios,' she cast a despairing glance at the hovering servant, 'has already told you so much, I don't know why he hasn't told you that. I climbed down to the beach.'
She felt Stein stiffen, saw his mouth clamp. 'I don't have to believe this! You mean you went down there this morning, on your own, before coming in here?'
'Yes. I shouldn't have
been late, only I couldn't find the right track.'
'You had only to ask.'
'But there was no one.'
'You could have come to me. I suppose, as usual, you couldn't bring yourself to ask my help?'
Their exchange was so sharply bitter, Sandra found herself wincing wretchedly. 'How did I know where to find you? You might have been in bed.'
'Do you imagine you would have suffered more harm if you'd joined me there? You might have enjoyed an hour or two in my arms — eventually. Your hurt could have been of a different kind, and not as bad as this.'
Uncontrollably she quivered. How could he be so frankly brutal, especially in front of Thimios? Then she saw Thimios wasn't there. 'Where is he?' she faltered.
'Anticipating my wishes,' Stein said curtly. 'Hot water and plasters, perhaps a bandage for this,' his finger-tip paused over the deepest cut on her index finger. 'I'm afraid you won't be able to type for a few days. A less benevolent employer couldn't be blamed for thinking you had done this deliberately.'
'Don't be stupid!' She felt so upset she scarcely knew what she was saying. Why should I try to injure myself on purpose when as soon as your brilliant book is finished I'll be free? Besides, I've only suffered a few scratches. To hear you go on one would imagine I'd broken my arm!'
While she paused for breath he said coldly, 'Your opinion of my book, Miss Weir, doesn't surprise me. I understand your shallow mind.'
Suddenly she had such a deep feeling of shame his cynical reference to her intelligence went unnoticed. She deserved all he said. Knowing how difficult it must be for him to work at all she had allowed a thirst for revenge to prompt her to speak as she would never have dreamt of doing normally. His blindness was responsible for his ill temper and cutting remarks, but she had no such excuse.
.. 'Stein,' she whispered, staring up at his taut face, 'oh, Stein, I am sorry. I didn't mean that your book is no good — you must know it -- it promises to be splendid. Even I, with my —er — shallow mind, can see that after only one chapter. Please forgive me,'
His mouth curled as his punishing grip tightened, then swiftly he released her. 'I think the situation is getting a bit too melodramatic,' he grunted. 'I must be going wrong in the head when I allow a little nobody like you to get under my skin. Ah, here comes Thimios with the bandages.'
Not knowing which hurt most, his harsh words or the stinging antiseptic, Sandra surrendered weakly to Stein's expert ministrations. He seemed capable of assessing the exact treatment for each finger and the scratches on her arms, but for all his undoubted skill she was glad when he was finished.
'Lunch is about to be served,' he drawled, as Thimios removed the basin of hot water. 'You can comb your hair and come with me. Our visitors are staying and expect to meet my fiancee, so you had better be prepared to be quite charming to me.'
Lunch proved an ordeal Sandra soon longed to be over. Madame Kartalis presided over a table surprisingly lavish considering her new guests had arrived unexpectedly. Beforehand, Stein had introduced Sandra to a Madame Nikitiadis and her two daughters. Xenia, the oldest one, was married. Petrina, the other, was not and spent most of the time gazing adoringly at Stein. It seemed very apparent she had met him before and had pleasant if not tantalising memories. She was young, perhaps in her middle twenties, and very pleasant to look at. While not exactly filled with enthusiasm, Sandra felt relieved she wasn't the mysterious Sophy, whom Stein had enquired about the previous evening, and did her best not to notice that Petrina often seemed to find it necessary to lay a gentle hand on Stein's arm.
They asked why Sandra's hands were covered with plasters and when she told them, the girls wanted to know why she had been so keen to go down to the beach when dear Madame Kartalis had such a beautiful pool.
'I hadn't been to the sea in years. I had a sudden fancy, not to swim, just to see the waves breaking over the sands and feel the salt spray,' she explained awkwardly.
'But how sad!' Madame Nikitiadis exclaimed in her excellent English. 'I love the sea, I couldn't imagine being without it!'
Stein's grandmother, who had been listening to the conversation intently, put in with a frown, 'This film you were in, Sandra — surely I recall Stein writing that it was made on a famous beach in Nassau?'
'Some of it was shot in Florida Keys and the Bahamas,' Stein agreed smoothly, 'but Sandra wasn't on that location. She has been over the sea in a plane, but I suppose, as she says, she hasn't been actually beside it.'
As Sandra gazed down at her plate in confusion she wondered unhappily where it was all to end. Stein might not always be around to save her from her own stupidity, and this incident surely proved just how easy it was to make a mistake.
Petrina looked her over so closely she felt uncomfortable.
'You don't really look like a film star, Miss Weir. At least,' Petrina admitted reluctantly, 'you have lovely hair and a good figure, but you're different somehow from the stars I've seen.
Don't you think so, Stein?'
'Sandra wasn't the leading lady, but she has distinct possibilities when it comes to acting, I believe.'
Trying to eat her lunch with strangely clumsy fingers,
Sandra hated the hidden dryness in Stein's voice. Why didn't he come out into the open and denounce her frankly as a cheat?
'We are looking forward to seeing the film of Stein's book,' the elder girl smiled charmingly. 'It will be an additional interest to see you in it, Miss Weir. What kind of a part do you have?'
Stein laughed carelessly, though he looked faintly watchful. 'It would only spoil it for you should we tell. It was only a small part. Perhaps you won't even spot her.'
Sandra went hot and cold, weary of trying to keep a smile fixed on her stiff lips. This was worse than she had ever envisaged. If Stein's friends did see the film and discovered the truth, what then?
It won't be on general release for some time,' Stein pointed out smoothly, as if sensing Sandra's hidden panic.
'No, of course not. We realise that,' Petrina took over quickly from her sister. 'All the same, you must be anticipating the event enormously, both of you.'
Sandra glanced at Stein so anxiously that Petrina flashed. 'Oh, I am so sorry,' she faltered unhappily, 'I quite forgot about Stein.'
As her voice trailed off Stein said lightly, 'Don't be embarrassed, Petrina. I find this harder to bear than people's very natural blunders. Who knows, by the time my film is shown a miracle might have happened, making it possible for me to see again.'
'Of course! Oh, I do hope so! But I am sorry, dearest Stein.' Careless of watching eyes, Petrina laid a caring hand on his arm, her fingers alive with sympathy.
Already somewhat aware that other women found him attractive, Sandra caught her breath as she waited for Stein's reactions. Her eyes widened as she saw him smile at Petrina warmly before lifting her hand gently to his lips. Sandra swallowed a lump in her throat with difficulty. Whenever she betrayed the least bit of compassion all she ever received was a sharp rebuke!
Before the visitors left the daughters entreated Stein to come down to the local taverna on the next evening. Sandra too, if her hands were better. They were sure she would enjoy it. And Mrs. Nikitiadis asked them all to dinner the following Saturday.
Sandra had been so sure Stein wouldn't go to the taverna that she could only stare with surprise when, after dinner the following evening, he told her to go and find a wrap.
'Keep on your pretty dress,' he drawled. 'I get tired of jeans.'
'But ------ ' she began, thinking the latter might be more
suitable. Besides, when he couldn't...
'If you say once more I can't see, I'll strangle you, my thespinis! I still have all my senses and I like the feel of silk against a silken skin better than denim.'
'You ought to have been a poet,' she mocked recklessly. 'A man can't be all things,' he jeered back, 'no matter how hard he tries. All I can be at the moment, I'm afraid, is an aspiring writer and perhaps lover.'
&nbs
p; Sandra's breath quickened, for all he sounded so matter-of-fact. He would be a good lover, she was sure, although she wasn't so certain he would be a faithful one, but the darkly passionate side of his nature she didn't doubt. Dully she was aware that, in some indefinable way, to hold her and make light love to her offered Stein some kind of welcome release from the darkness which surrounded him, but she shuddered to think how it might be when, with his emotions fully aroused, he demanded more.
If their visit to the taverna near Paleokastritsa was a success, Sandra wasn't so sure about Mrs. Nikitiadis's dinner. In the taverna, a low sand-coloured building set almost on the beach, she had felt fairly relaxed. There had been lighthearted entertainment and a happy atmosphere prevailing. Sandra had been content enough to sit with a drink of the local ouzo, watching the dancing and listening to the conversation. Not that she could make much of this as she had even yet only picked up a few words in Greek, but if nothing else she had learnt the Greeks loved to talk and argue, and she enjoyed their animated expressions. It made quite a change from the more reserved face of the average Englishman.
In spite of his harshness over the past few days, Sandra felt happy that most of those here seemed to know Stein, or know of him. She felt an almost glowing sense of pride at the way in which he seemed to have overcome his previous reluctance to go out and renew old acquaintances. But he refused to join in the local dances, even when Petrina begged him. Nor, surprisingly enough, would he allow Sandra to dance with any of the numerous young men who asked her.
'You are supposed to be my fiancee,' he said curtly. 'You must stay with me, not because I can't manage alone, but because it is expected of you. Besides,' he growled, 'why should these young men, whose voices tell me they find you attractive, have what I can't have myself?'
So she stayed beside him, grateful that he appeared to need her for any reason at all, and when for a few moments he put his arm around her narrow waist and drew her close she felt dizzy with a mysterious kind of delight.
That the following Saturday evening was one she subconsciously dreaded didn't really register until she was actually inside the house of Madame Nikitiadis.
The Devil's Bride Page 8
