I look about seventeen, she thought. Except that I never looked like this when I was seventeen.
It wasn’t just the dress. There was something in her face—something soft, almost wistful, that was new and unfamiliar. Under their fringe of lashes, her eyes were dreaming.
My eyes. That was what he had called her. Matia mou.
Only she wasn’t going to think about that any more—what he’d said, or done. She was going to eat her meal, get on her ferry, and go back to the sanctuary of her expensive hotel. And if he turned up there, Security would know how to deal with him.
She nodded fiercely, and went down to the courtyard of the taverna.
Yannis welcomed her with extravagant admiration, and Maria appeared in the kitchen doorway, smiling mistily.
But Draco, as a cautious glance round soon revealed, was nowhere to be seen.
Perhaps the mention of a boyfriend had produced the desired result, Cressy told herself, firmly quashing an unwelcome tingle of disappointment.
To her surprise, the taverna was busy, and not just with local people. One of the tour companies had brought a crowd over from Alakos, it seemed, and most of the tables had been rearranged in a long line under the striped awning, and people, laughing and talking, were taking their seats there.
Yannis took Cressy to a secluded corner, protected by latticework screens covered, in turn, by a flowering vine.
He brought her ouzo, followed by dishes of taramasalata and houmous, and juicy black olives, with a platter of fresh bread.
As she sampled them, Cressy saw that a group of bouzouki players had arrived and were tuning their instruments.
For the dancing, thought Cressy with sudden unease. She sent a restive glance at her watch.
‘There is a problem?’ No mistaking that deep voice. Cressy looked up, shocked, to see Draco depositing a bottle of white wine on the table and taking the seat opposite.
Her warning antennae had let her down badly this time, she thought, biting her lip.
She hurried into speech. ‘I was wondering about the ferry. What time does it leave?’
He sent an amused glance at the exuberant holidaymakers. ‘When these people are ready to go. There is no hurry.’ He paused. ‘Or are you so anxious to leave us?’
She kept her voice even. ‘I think it’s time that I got back to the real world.’
‘Or what passes for reality at the Hellenic Imperial hotel,’ he said softly.
‘You don’t approve of such places?’
He shrugged. ‘The islands need tourists, and tourists need hotels. They can prove—lucrative.’
‘Especially,’ Cressy said waspishly, ‘for someone like you.’
His grin was unabashed. ‘I do not deny it.’ He picked up her glass to fill it with wine.
She said, ‘I didn’t order that.’
He smiled at her. ‘It is a gift.’
‘I didn’t expect that either.’
‘You ask for so little, matia mou. It is one of your many charms.’
Cressy flushed. ‘If you really want to do me a favour, kyrie, you’ll stop calling me matia mou.’
His brows lifted. ‘Why?’
‘Because it’s—inappropriate. In my country it could be construed as harassment.’
She couldn’t believe how prim and humourless she sounded.
He said quietly, ‘But you are in my country now. On my island. And things are different here.’
‘Is that a warning?’ She stiffened.
‘Do you feel that you are in danger?’
Yes, she wanted to scream. Yes—and I don’t understand what’s happening to me. I don’t want this.
Aloud, she said lightly, ‘I’m the stranger within your gates, kyrie. Isn’t that what you told me? I’ve eaten your bread, and now I’m drinking your wine.’ She lifted her glass towards him, then took a mouthful. It was cool and crisp against her dry throat. ‘So why should I be afraid?’
He raised his own glass. ‘Stin iyia sas. To you, thespinis, and to your beauty in that dress. If your lover was here, he would beg on his knees to make you his bride.’ He drank, and put down his glass.
He said softly, his gaze holding hers, ‘I will make a bargain with you. I will not call you “my eyes” until your eyes promise me that I may. And, in return, you will tell me your given name.’
Under the cool white cotton, her skin felt as if it was on fire.
She lifted her chin. ‘Very well, kyrie. I’m called Cressida.’
‘Cressida,’ he repeated thoughtfully. ‘The golden one—who was faithless to her lover Troilus.’
‘According to Shakespeare, and the other men who wrote about her,’ Cressy said crisply. ‘She, of course, might have had a different viewpoint. And, if it comes to that, your own namesake isn’t much to brag about—a tyrant imposing laws that no one could live under. Although that shouldn’t surprise me,’ she added with warmth.
‘Quarrelling?’ Yannis arrived with two plates of grilled swordfish, Greek salads, and a big bowl of fries. ‘Not while you eat my food, or you will get bad stomachs.’ He wagged an admonishing finger at them both, and went off.
Draco grinned at her. ‘He is right. Let us begin again.’
He held out his hand. ‘Hero poli, Cressida. I am pleased to meet you.’
Reluctantly, she allowed her fingers to be enclosed in the warmth of his. ‘Hero poli—Draco.’
‘And your name is very beautiful,’ he added.
Cressy wrinkled her nose. ‘I used to hate it,’ she confessed. ‘But then I hated everything about being a girl. I wanted so badly to be a boy when I was little that my father used to call me Sid as a joke. My mother was very cross about it, so he’d never use it in front of her. Only when we were on our own.’
‘And does he still call you—Sid?’ His brows lifted.
Cressy looked down at her plate. ‘Not for a long time,’ she said quietly.
‘I am not surprised.’ He gave a faint smile. ‘I must tell you, Cressida, that you are no boy.’
She met the sudden intensity of the dark eyes and flushed, reaching hurriedly for her knife and fork.
The swordfish was succulent and delicious, and she ate every scrap, even conducting
