doing many things, but arranging flowers wasn’t one of them. A woman’s touch? She scanned the row of flourishing green herbs lined up in their small terracotta pots and then looked around the room for more clues.
There was a battery of unsophisticated cooking utensils hanging from hooks on the walls, as well as several decorative plates in traditional blue and cream earthenware on a wooden shelf…but they were all too perfectly positioned. And in spite of the flowers and herbs there was something sterile about the interior. Perhaps it was the absolute lack of clutter, but it looked more like a swanky holiday cottage than a local home.
She ducked down as Iannis walked into the room. From his damp hair she deduced that he had taken a quick shower. It made her all the more aware of her own salt-caked discomfort. Peering cautiously over the sill again, she saw that he had changed into a pair of beautifully cut black trousers, and had a towel slung casually around his neck. The trousers were gaping open at the front, and she saw the reason for it as he reached for a freshly ironed shirt hanging on the back of a chair.
She ducked down again fast when he turned to stare out of the window, almost as if he sensed she was there. Pressing herself back against the wall, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and waited for her heart to calm down. She was such a fool. Had she really imagined he would live alone? Iron his own shirts?
When the kitchen light went off again she scuttled around the corner of the cottage to where another band of light striped the stony ground. Cautiously straightening up, Charlotte peered through the window into what she guessed was the main reception room. Elegantly furnished, it reinforced her suspicions that this was no usual fisherman’s home. The traditional woven rug with a graphic design in neutral colours could have passed in a modern loft conversion, there was a deeply padded banquette covered in what looked like cream linen skirting two sides of the room, and a large stone fireplace with a cast-iron hearth full of logs. But there wasn’t a single personal possession as far as she could see.
Maybe Iannis was just incredibly tidy… But she had to be sure. She had to find his bedroom.
She was beginning to feel like a character in a not-very-funny cartoon, Charlotte thought, as she bunny-hopped her way around the cottage. But fortunately the building wasn’t large, and she soon found an exterior staircase that led to a veranda at first-floor level. It seemed likely that his bedroom would be at the top of the steps.
Climbing soundlessly in her bare feet, Charlotte saw that the double doors were wide open. And she could hear music. Jazz? Soft, smoochy jazz. She jerked back in surprise and took some thinking time. She couldn’t have been more taken aback if there had been a brass band playing. The only music she had heard so far on the island was either pop or traditional Greek tunes at the taverna.
Creeping onto the balcony, she cautiously peered into the bedroom. There was just one bank of pillows on the bed. No sign of a woman’s touch here, at least…in fact no sign of anyone’s touch. It looked exactly like a hotel bedroom.
She spotted the shorts and top he had been wearing cast on a chair, but there wasn’t a photograph or even an ornament to soften the room—a disappointment for her professional curiosity, but otherwise a relief.
Charlotte tensed and pulled back quickly as Iannis strode into the room. She saw him snatch up the shorts, but then a large moth, attracted by the light, brushed against her face. With a soft cry of alarm she raised her arms to ward it off. Iannis froze, and then moved with frightening speed towards the open doors.
Charlotte had a head start. She ran ahead of him with a speed born of utter panic. If she could just get down to the beach she felt sure she could get back to the villa before he guessed what she had done.
The moon was stubbornly fixed behind a cloud, which was to her advantage. She heard shutters closing, and knew he must have gone back to lock up. Pausing to catch her breath, with her hands resting on her legs, Charlotte smiled. It had been a close call, but she had got away with it.
After a few minutes of rapid walking along the beach she heard something else, and stopped again. It was the unmistakable sound of oars clopping into still water. And then she saw the small rowing boat moving steadily across the bay.
Charlotte uttered a small sound of alarm. She had never dreamed that Iannis would row across the bay—not when he had changed into decent clothes. There wasn’t the slightest chance she could catch up with him now. Marianna would be worried out of her mind when Iannis arrived without her.
And where would she say she had been?
CHARLOTTE had no intention of skulking in the shadows outside her own villa. She could hear Iannis and Marianna talking on the terrace and decided to brazen it out.
‘Good evening, Iannis,’ she said, strolling casually towards him.
He tensed as he swung around to view her through narrowed eyes.
‘Where have you been?’ Marianna exclaimed.
‘I trust you caught the last rays of the sun?’ Iannis murmured sardonically.
Charlotte felt her face redden. ‘I stayed longer than I intended to down on the beach…and now I need to take a shower, if you will excuse me.’
‘Well, thank goodness you have returned safely,’ Marianna said. ‘I must be going, too—’
‘Oh, no,’ Charlotte exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks. ‘You don’t have to rush off.’
‘It is getting late,’ Marianna pointed out, looking Charlotte up and down with concern.
‘Perhaps Iannis will walk with you?’ Charlotte suggested hopefully.
‘It would be my pleasure,’ he agreed.
As Iannis and Marianna walked away from the villa together Charlotte felt the tension drain out of her. She’d had more than enough excitement for one evening.
But less than half an hour later Iannis was back.
‘Forgive me,’ he murmured, standing beneath the light on the porch as she opened the door. ‘There is something I forgot.’
‘Oh?’ Charlotte said faintly, backing up as he came towards her. ‘Can I find it for you?’
‘I have already found it,’ he said, closing the front door softly behind him.
‘I don’t understand…’ Charlotte felt her heart lurch as she watched a muscle work in his jaw, and then very slowly he eased away from the door.
‘Do you understand this, pedhaki mou?’ he murmured, reaching out for her.
Even after their closeness on the beach, coming from his lips the endearment was so unexpected Charlotte’s brow pleated fleetingly in bemusement. She had heard the Greek women crooning ‘little one’ to their children, but hearing it now from Iannis thrilled her—made her doubts seem foolish, made her feel safe, she realised as he dragged away the last barrier between them.
Iannis felt his senses surge to a level that could no longer be contained. Revenge—for all she had written about him, for her deception—would be sheer delight, he mused as he brushed his lips experimentally against Charlotte’s
