His Virgin Mistress

‘And now, if you’ll excuse me…’

She was leaving him, and Demetri could no longer think of an excuse to keep her there. But what troubled him most was that he should want to do so, and he abruptly stepped aside, opening her path to the villa.

‘Until later,’ he said, but she didn’t answer him. If he hadn’t known better he’d have said she was trembling with apprehension. Only it wasn’t apprehension, it was rage.

Joa

But she’d looked over her balcony and there’d appeared to be no one about. Oh, she’d seen a couple of men working in the gardens, and a youth of perhaps fifteen sweeping the steps. Yet even he had disappeared by the time she’d stepped out of the villa, and she’d walked to the boundary wall with the first feeling of freedom she’d had since coming here.

And the view was so beautiful. Acres of flower-filled gardens falling away into dunes of sun-bleached sand. A wooden jetty pointed into the blue-green waters of the Aegean, a two-masted schooner bobbing at anchor, all gleaming steel and polished teak. A millionaire’s plaything in a million-dollar setting.

Then Demetrios had emerged from the pool and everything had changed. Her sense of wellbeing had vanished, replaced by the tension that man always evoked. She’d known him for less than twenty-four hours, yet he’d already succeeded in setting her nerves on edge whenever he was near. She had the feeling he looked at her and saw right through her. He didn’t like her: that much was obvious. But, more than that, he despised her for what he thought she was doing with his father.

Now Joa

But the pool was empty. Although she waited half apprehensively to see if he was briefly out of sight, hidden by the lip of the deck, he didn’t appear. The water was as smooth and unbroken as a mirror, reflecting only the sunlight and the waving palms that grew close by.

Stepping back into the room again, she looked bleakly about her. And then, a

She felt a little better after a shower. The cool water had washed away the perspiration that had dried on her skin, and she felt more ready to face the day. Constantine had said he would take her to the small town of Agios Antonis this morning, and she was looking forward to seeing a little more of the island. Since their arrival two days ago they had spent all their time at the villa. Constantine had been weary after the flight from London, and yesterday he had had the reception Olivia had organised to contend with. Joa

Joa

Nevertheless, Constantine had insisted on equipping her with several new outfits for the trip to Theapolis. And, although Joa

The fact that she normally shu

Besides, they would have detracted from the image he wanted her to present. It was because she could do what he asked that he’d chosen her, and in the circumstances Joa

Perhaps she’d wanted to do it for her own sake, she reflected, riffling through the rail of expensive garments, all of which were designed to inspire and provoke masculine attention. Flimsy shirts and tight-fitting basques; low-cut bodices and clinging skirts; hems slashed to expose her legs from thigh to hip—items that until two weeks ago she’d have avoided like the plague.

But it hadn’t always been so. Once she would have revelled in their style and beauty. Oh, she had never owned anything too revealing, but she had appreciated her own body and dressed in a way to make the most of her assets. She’d spent so many years believing she was worthless that when the opportunity had come to make the most of her appearance, she’d taken it. She’d wanted to be admired. She’d wanted to know the thrill of feeling beautiful.

And then she’d met Richard Ma

But she didn’t want to think about Richard now. He was history. He’d hurt and humiliated her for the last time. But perhaps by downplaying her looks she’d been subconsciously denying their relationship. Maybe it was time to come out of her shell.

She viewed her appearance cautiously when she was ready. It would take some time before she was able to look at herself with uncritical eyes, and although the lime-green crêpe shell and cream silk shorts were very flattering, she couldn’t get used to exposing such a length of thigh. Still, she was sure Constantine would approve and, for the present, that was all that mattered.

Which reminded her—where was Constantine? He had said he would order breakfast to be served on the balcony again, as he had done the previous morning, but when she stepped outside again there was still no one about. The wrought-iron table wasn’t even laid, and she knew a moment’s apprehension. What was going on? Surely Demetrios hadn’t delayed him. His son had been eager to speak to him, it was true, but all the same…

Turning back into the room, she crossed to the co

‘Kalimera, Kiria Ma

Joa

However, she had taken the precaution of learning one phrase, and with smiling courtesy she said, ‘Then katalaveno,’ which she knew meant, I don’t understand. ‘Signomi.’ Sorry.

Philip’s thin lips tightened. He was a man in his late fifties, who Constantine had said had been with him for more than thirty years. Gaunt and unsmiling, he was the exact opposite of Joa

‘Kirie Kastro is not—up, kiria,’ he said at last, in a thick barely comprehensible accent. ‘Then sikothikeh akomi.’

Joa

‘Is he all right?’ she asked, not much caring if the valet cared to stand here trading information with her. ‘Can I see him?’