The Enigmatic Greek. CATHERINE GEORGE

and looked over his shoulder. ‘Help yourself to a T-shirt, or whatever, to sleep in.’

      The intimacy of the situation put Eleanor on edge as Alex went into the bathroom.

      ‘Tomorrow night,’ he said when he emerged, ‘You can sleep in my mother’s room.’

      She stared at him in surprise. ‘I thought you were hustling me back to the UK tomorrow.’

      He shrugged irritably. ‘I was, but while you were getting cleaned up earlier my mother pointed out that you should be allowed to enjoy the rest of your holiday as planned. I can’t guarantee your safety on Karpyros, but I can if you stay on here. You’d have Sofia to look after you and give you meals, and Theo Lazarides for security. You can have the run of the place, other than my office, and if you find the Kastro too intimidating to sleep in alone I can ask Sofia to move up here until you leave.’

      ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked, astonished.

      A flash of respect lit the dark eyes. ‘I owe you, Ms Markham. You risked your own safety, even your life, to help my mother today. I pride myself on paying my debts. Or do you have a different reward in mind?’

      She nodded. ‘Actually, I do, but I’ll let your mother fill you in on that. Right now, I’m so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open.’

      He hesitated, and then surprised her by shaking her hand briefly. ‘Thank you again, Eleanor Markham. Goodnight.’

      ‘Goodnight.’ She watched the door close behind him, wishing she could be a fly on the wall when he re-joined his parents.

      Instead of doing so immediately, Alexei Drakos went into the tower room to stare out at the night sky, his mind more occupied with Eleanor than his parents who, much as he hated to admit it, were probably both pleased to be left alone together for a while. Besides, they were not his immediate problem—unlike the woman occupying his bedroom tonight.

      He shook his head impatiently. He’d obviously gone too long without the pleasure of a woman to warm his bed. Since the degrading business with Christina, he’d avoided all women, which meant that part of Eleanor Markham’s appeal was her appearance in his life at a time of sexual drought. But the bright eyes in that narrow face had caught his eye this afternoon, otherwise he wouldn’t have offered his help. The discovery that she was a journalist had been like a punch to the ribs.

      He winced. It was she who had taken that kind of blow tonight, in her fight to save his mother. No getting away from it, damn it. He owed her. He turned away abruptly, squaring his shoulders. Time to knock on his mother’s bedroom door and politely request that his father leave. God, what a night!

      CHAPTER THREE

      ELEANOR woke next morning to a knock on the door, and for a moment stared blankly at her surroundings. She heaved herself up in Alexei Drakos’ vast bed, wincing as her various bruises came to life.

      Sofia backed in with a tray, smiling. ‘Kalimera, kyria.’

      Eleanor returned the greeting, and asked after Talia.

      ‘Kyria Talia has gone, but she left you this.’ Sofia took a letter from her apron pocket. ‘She told me to see you rest. Eat well,’ she added as she went out.

      Eleanor tore open the envelope quickly.

       My Dear Eleanor,

       I looked in on you earlier but you were so deeply asleep I did not disturb you. Our intruder is now on his way to police custody but my son insists on escorting me on the ferry to Crete to catch my plane. On the voyage I shall ask him to give you your interview. Enjoy your stay on Kyrkiros. Alex is returning there later, so make sure he gives you your reward for your bravery last night.

       Please contact me at the address and telephone numbers above when you get back. In all the excitement, I forgot to ask for yours, and I would so much like to see you again, Eleanor.

       With my grateful thanks,

       Talia.

      Eleanor folded the letter very thoughtfully and turned her attention to the tray. She was hungry, and not even the thought of Alexei Drakos returning to play hell about an interview spoiled her enjoyment of orange juice, rolls warm from the oven and all the coffee in the pot. When Sofia returned she escorted Eleanor to the immaculate guest bedroom, where Eleanor’s clothes, including canvas deck shoes, were now dry and ready to wear.

      Eleanor thanked the woman warmly, and asked when kyrie Alexei was returning.

      Sofia looked puzzled. ‘He is not returning here from Crete, kyria. But you are to stay as long as you wish.’

      Eleanor washed her bitter disappointment away in the shower. So there would be no interview with Alexei Drakos after all. Get over it, she told herself irritably. Comfortable again in her own clothes—other than the canvas flats, which seemed to have shrunk a size after their dunking—she made for the lift and took it down to ground level. Voices led her along the hall to a vast kitchen where Sofia was drinking coffee with two other women.

      ‘Kalimera,’ Eleanor said in general greeting, and received warm smiles in response. She was introduced to buxom Irene and thin Chloe, both of whom, as far as she could make out, praised her for her bravery of the night before.

      ‘You saved kyria Talia,’ stated Sofia, and scowled venomously. ‘The dog has gone with the police. Did he hurt you?’

      Eleanor patted her ribs. ‘His foot,’ she explained, illustrating with a kick. ‘When he pushed me in the water.’

      ‘You could have died!’ exclaimed Irene with drama.

      Eleanor shook her head. ‘Kyrie Drakos saved me.’ Not that it had been necessary. She could swim well enough. She smiled hopefully. ‘Could someone take me over to Karpyros now, please?’ If Alexei Drakos wasn’t coming back here was no point in hanging around. Besides, her belongings were back in the taverna, and she needed her laptop to get some work done.

      ‘Yannis will take you after you eat,’ Sofia said firmly. ‘I will bring lunch to the tower room.’

      Taking this as her cue, Eleanor left the kitchen and went up in the lift to spend a long time gazing at the spectacularly beautiful view of vine-clad slopes rising from cobalt-blue sea before she settled down to make notes about the day before. She sighed in frustration as she wrote, wishing she could spice the account up with details of the bungled kidnap. But even without it the article on Kyrkiros would be the most interesting one of the series, partly because of the photographs she’d taken of the bull dance and partly because the island was owned by Alexei Drakos. He could hardly object if his