The Power of the Legendary Greek - By Catherine George Page 0,38

my ankle hurts a bit, but I’m not too bad, all things considered.’ She held out her chafed wrists. ‘Do you have anything I can put on these after I shower?’

Luke’s mouth twisted as he raised her hands to his lips. ‘Isobel, this is all my fault. The man orchestrating this campaign thinks I will pay whatever he wants to get you back.’ He looked up into her eyes. ‘He is right. But I would give much to lay my hands on the scum who put you through this. And I cannot even call Dr Riga out to you yet for fear that word gets out that I have you.’

‘I don’t need Dr Riga,’ said Isobel firmly. ‘And you look battered enough already, so keep well away from the man who kidnapped me. He’s a big brute.’

‘Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?’ demanded Luke fiercely.

‘Yes, though when he carried me to the hut he wasn’t exactly gentle.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘And he went raving mad when he saw my hair.’

To her surprise, Luke looked uncomfortable. ‘It was the colour. He was expecting dark hair.’

‘What?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘He thought he was kidnapping someone else?’

‘Yes. A friend of mine. Granddaughter of the industrialist Denis Stratos—who received a ransom note this morning, also.’

All this had happened due to mistaken identity? Isobel felt a sudden violent urge to hit someone. ‘No wonder the man was furious. Could you ask Eleni to fetch some clothes up here for me, please? I’m utterly desperate to get clean.’

‘All your belongings are back in this room again,’ he said quickly. ‘You sleep here tonight and every other night, where I can keep you safe.’

‘But once the kidnapper’s caught it won’t matter where I sleep; I can go back to the Kalypso,’ said Isobel, though secretly she was not at all keen on the prospect after her adventure.

‘No,’ said Luke flatly. ‘Until your flight to the UK, you remain here. I have rescued you twice. A third time you might not be so lucky.’

She glared at him. ‘It was hardly my intention to trouble you, either time.’

‘I know; I put that badly—’ He broke off as Eleni came in with the tea. ‘You must drink your tea in here, not on the veranda. With a telescopic lens someone could see you.’

Wonderful. ‘Whatever you say,’ she said wearily, utterly shattered now her adrenaline rush had receded.

‘I shall leave you for a while,’ said Luke, eyeing her narrowly. ‘Are you really all right, Isobel? You look exhausted.’

‘Hardly surprising, after my labours.’ She smiled doggedly as Eleni poured tea. ‘A cup of tea and a long hot shower and I’ll be fine.’

Once Luke had gone, Isobel sagged in the chair, tears suddenly streaming down her face, and Eleni went on her knees beside her, rocking her in her arms as she made comforting noises. But after a while the little woman pulled away, her eyes fierce as she examined the rope marks on Isobel’s wrists.

‘The pig did this?’

Isobel nodded dumbly.

‘Tell truth. That all?’

‘Yes. Nothing worse.’ Isobel gulped and scrubbed at her eyes with the tissue Eleni handed her. ‘Stupid to cry now I’m safe.’

‘Is natural! Now, drink tea, then shower. Want help?’

‘No, I can manage.’ Isobel hugged her hard. ‘Oh, God, Eleni, I was so terrified that you and Spiro had been hurt.’

At which point the woman’s English deserted her and she rocked Isobel in her arms again for a while before letting her go.

When Isobel finally stood under the spray, wincing as it caught her various scrapes and bruises, her mood was a long way short of the elation it should have been. She had expected Luke to make rather more fuss of her. They’d agreed to be friends, after all, so a comforting cuddle or two would have been nice. But once the first violence of his relief had abated he seemed to have switched off. And tonight she couldn’t even eat with him. The terrace was as public as her bedroom veranda.

Isobel had to work hard to get her damp hair in shape with a chunk of it missing at one side. Her first priority would obviously be a haircut once she got home. She smiled wryly. How wonderfully tame life would be back at the gallery. She fought down a sudden wave of homesickness at the thought of it and went to work on her face, then covered her array of bruises with a white long-sleeved shirt and soft blue cotton jeans. But went barefoot rather