certain needs, and taking a mistress entails a certain expenditure of time and effort—time that could be more profitably spent on business concerns.’
‘And taking a wife doesn’t mean spending time and effort?’ asked Bonnie, appalled.
Andreas sighed deeply. ‘I am telling you this to showyou the man Iwas then. The type of man whose first unloved and unconsidered wife died to escape him, and whose second wife eventually ran off with another man. Whose firstborn son left home as soon as he hit eighteen because—as he said—I drove him too hard, expected too much, used criticism as our only mode of conversation. I never saw him again. He left my home, refused to join the business as I had planned since his birth, so I washed my hands of him. He died of a heroin overdose in Paris five years later.’
His hands tightened on hers. ‘I am not proud of what I was. I have been a failure as a husband, as a father. As a human being. I see all this now, and I cannot tell you how deeply I regret it all. Regret all that I was, all that I was not. But most of all I regret that I have not seen my second son since he was fourteen years old—and that he has made himselfmy enemy.’
He took a deep breath. Warm darkness was closing in, the great scarlet ball of the sun sinking low on the horizon. ‘That is why I would ask you, were you to agree to be my wife, to stand by my side and give me courage, to intercede with my remaining son on my behalf. I want to get to know him, make amends if I can. I dream of turning his enmity into friendship—or, if that cannot be managed, a sense of kinship. I don’t want to leave this life having no one of my blood to mourn my passing.’
Bonnie felt her throat tighten, felt moisture gather in her eyes. She was so sorry for him. Poor old guy! On the face of it, he’d deserved all he got. But hewas obviously truly repentant over his past deeply dreadful shortcomings. His recent near death experience had opened his eyes to his failures with shocking clarity.
Surely he deserved a second chance?
But she had to make one thing clear. Gently, she withdrew her hands from his. ‘Andreas,’ she began firmly, ‘I’m fond of you.’
And she was. They’d hit it off from the start. She always gave her patients the best care she could, even if they were real miseries! But Andreas had been different—responding positively to all her medical demands, never once complaining. She tried her best to like all her charges, even if they were impossible, but with this old guy she hadn’t had to try.
‘But I can’t marry you,’ she said softly. ‘It’s immensely flattering, but in my book marriage should be more than a contract, with money changing hands. Companionship comes into it, of course, but there has to be so much more. I will promise one thing. I’ll do my utmost to try and put things right between you and your son, but you must tell me how to go about it.’
‘So what are you going to do?’ Lisa had listened in total silence as Bonnie had recounted that conversation verbatim. ‘What are you going to say to this estranged son of his? It won’t be easy—but I guess you know that.’
‘I’ll think of something,’ Bonnie replied, with a confidence she was far from feeling.
Deep down she felt thiswas a no-win situation. On the one hand, the firstborn son’s reaction to his father’s harsh idea of parenting made it no surprise that the second-born should have followed suit. But surely that didn’t excuse his apparently ruthless drive to ruin his father?Aguy had to be really mean-minded to start out on that track, and by all accounts never give up.
Quite how she’d get through to him she had no idea. But she’d promised to do what she could, and she never went back on a promise.
CHAPTER TWO
‘STAVROS!’
The sharp call cut through the searing afternoon heat, a hollow boom as the sea surged against the base of the cliffs. Suddenly feeling insecure in her resting place, a handy shady niche among the high rocks, Bonnie listened to the following spate of Greek and understood not a word, only the tone. Whoever was issuing what she suspected were orders was a guy who expected to be obeyed smartish, no questions asked. Her mouth quirked wryly. She pitied this Stavros if he was neglecting some duty or other.
Holding on to the wall of the blisteringly hot rock face, Bonnie got gingerly to her feet, stowed herwater bottle, and hitched the leather strap of her canvas bag over her head and shoulder. At least there was someone around who could point her in the right direction.
Two days ago a workhorse of a ferry had deposited her and a load of what had looked like second-hand agricultural machinery on the quayside of this tiny harbour town, its pastel-coloured squat houses clustering around the deep water inlet, backed by hills thick with gnarled and ancient olive trees.
‘It is not a tourist destination. Only the occasional backpacker visits,’ Andreas had told her. ‘From what I gather it boasts only one road, a handful of basic shops and tavernas. The lifestyle is low-key and traditional, which is why the seriously wealthy build holiday homes there, attracted by the peace and quiet. My son is one of that select number. He is there now, and my feeling is that you may find him more approachable while he is in a relaxed mood.’
If she could find him!
The mention of Dimitri Kyriakis had been rewarded with blank stares from the locals, and the widow Athena Stephanides, with whom she was lodging, courtesy of Andreas’s deep purse, had merely shrugged. ‘Sorry. I know of no one with that name.’
The only option she had was to head south, to the area where the super-rich built their luxurious hideaways. Complete, so Athena had divulged with much raising of eyebrows, with helipads and swimming pools of Olympian proportions. Then she’d clammed up, as if regretting that she’d said that much.
It would appear that the locals guarded the privacy of their wealthy incomers. And in all fairness Bonnie couldn’t really blame them, because they obviously boosted the island economy, recruiting permanent and temporary staff from amongst the close-knit island families.
So she had no choice but to head down there and knock on doors—provided she could get past security fences and prowling guard dogs! She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she had promised Andreas. Besides, she wanted to help the poor old guy, because the mistakes he’d made in the past were now deeply regretted, were troubling him, and if she could help him put them right then she was up for it.
Her idea of following the coastline and then striking inland to the southern tip of the island where the secluded villas of the mega-wealthy were located didn’t seem as brilliant now as it had when she’d pored over a rudimentary map of the island after breakfast.
She might have made better progress if she had followed the long, dusty road that led over the high spine of the island. It might have been tedious in the extreme, but it wouldn’t have been as hairy as this coastal shortcut was proving to be.
Far too many feet below her, deep green translucent water swelled and subsided. It made her feel giddy. Telling herself she wouldn’t fall into the ocean, she wasn’t that stupid, she gritted her teeth and edged forward around the outcrop, heading for what her map had told her was a small horseshoeshaped bay. From there, as far as she could make out, an unmade track led further south, skirting the central rocky spine of the island.
Successfully negotiating the obstacle, she paused, expelled the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, then sucked in another, deeper gulp of air. The cove below her was idyllic, but even more spectacular was the man walking along the waterline
