‘Except that he took the chance to spread lies,’ she seethed. ‘I was actually beginning to think he might not be so bad after all. I’ll strangle him.’

‘Leave it for a while,’ he soothed. ‘Then we’ll do it together. But until then you stay in bed until I say you can get up.’

‘I’m not fragile,’ she protested. ‘I won’t break.’

‘That’s my decision. You’re going to be looked after.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said meekly, through twitching lips.

He threw her a suspicious glance. She retaliated by saluting him.

‘I understand, sir. I’ll just keep quiet and obey, because I’m gonna be looked after whether I like it or not, sir!’

He smiled then. ‘Oh, I think you might like it,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she said happily. ‘I think I just might.’

That night she slept better than she’d done for weeks. It might be the effect of snuggling down in Lysandros’s comfortable bed, waited on hand and foot and told to think of nothing but getting well. Or perhaps it was the blissful sensation of being beside him all night, ordered to, ‘Wake me if you need anything.’

Or the moment when she half-awoke in the early hours to find him sitting by the window, and the way he hurried over, saying, ‘What is it? What can I do for you?’

This man would astound those who only knew him in the boardroom. His tenderness was real, and so, to her delighted surprise, was his thoughtfulness. He visibly racked his brains to please her, and succeeded because it seemed to matter to him so much. She slipped back contentedly into sleep.

When she awoke the next morning he was gone and the house was silent. Had she misread him? Had he taken what he wanted, then abandoned her to make her suffer for invading his privacy? But, although that fitted with his reputation, she couldn’t make herself believe it of the man who’d cared for her so gently last night.

‘Aaaaah,’ she gasped slowly, rubbing her back as she eased her way out onto the landing.

Downstairs, the front door opened, revealing him. As soon as he saw her at the top of the stairs he hurried up, demanding, ‘What are you doing out of bed?’

‘I had to get up for a few minutes,’ she protested.

‘Well, now you can go right back. Come along.’

But once inside the bedroom he pointed her to a chair, saying brusquely, ‘Sit there while I remake the bed.’

Gladly she sat down, watching him pull the sheets straight, until finally he came to help her stand.

‘I’m just a bit stiff,’ she said, clinging to him gladly and wincing.

‘You’ll be less stiff when I’ve given you a good rub. I went out for food and I remembered a pharmacy where they sell a great liniment. Get undressed and lie down.’

She did so, lying on her front and gasping as the cool liniment touched her. But that soon changed to warmth as his hand moved here and there over her bruises.

‘They seem more tender now than last night,’ she mused.

‘You should have rested at once,’ he told her. ‘It’s my fault you didn’t.’

‘Yes,’ she remembered, smiling. ‘We did something else instead. It was worth it.’

‘I’m glad you think so, but I’m not touching you again until you’re better.’

‘Aren’t you touching me now?’

‘This isn’t the same thing,’ he said firmly.

And it wasn’t, she thought, frustrated. His fingers moved here and there, sometimes firm, sometimes soft, but tending her, not loving her. There was just one moment when he seemed on the edge of weakening, when his hand lingered over the swell of her behind, as though he was fighting temptation. But then he won the fight and his hand moved firmly on.

She sighed. It wasn’t fair.

Later, in the kitchen, she watched as he made breakfast.

‘They wouldn’t believe it if they could see you now,’ she teased.

He didn’t need to ask who ‘they’ were.

‘I’m trusting you not to tell them,’ he said. ‘If you breathe a word of this I’ll say you’re delusional.’

‘Don’t worry. This is one secret I’m going to keep to myself. You don’t keep any servants here?’

‘I have a cleaning lady who comes in sometimes, but I prefer to be alone. Most of the house is shut up, and I just use a couple of rooms.’

‘What made you come here now?’

‘I needed to think,’ he said, regarding her significantly. ‘Since we met…I don’t know…everything should have been simple…’

‘But it never has been,’ she mused. ‘I wonder if we can make things simple by wanting it.’

‘No,’ he said at once. ‘But if you have to fight-why not? As long as you know what you’re fighting for.’

‘Or who you’re fighting,’ she pointed out.

‘I don’t think there’s any doubt about who we’ll be fighting,’ he said.

‘Each other. Yes, it makes it interesting, doesn’t it? Exhausting but interesting.’

He laughed and she pounced on it. ‘I love it when you laugh. That’s when I can claim a victory.’

‘You’ve had other victories that maybe you don’t know about.’ He added with a touch of self-mockery, ‘Or maybe you do.’

‘I think I’ll leave you to guess about that.’

‘It would be a mistake for me to underestimate you, wouldn’t it?’

‘Definitely.’

Briefly she thought, if only he were always like this, charming and open to her. But she smothered the thought at once. A man who was always charming was like a musician who could only play one note. Eventually it became tedious. Lysandros was fascinating because she never knew who he was going to be from one moment to the next. And nor did he know with her, which kept them both on alert. Could anything be more delightful?

‘I’m sorry about last night,’ he said.

‘I’m not.’

‘I mean I’m sorry I didn’t wait until you were better.’

‘Listen, if you’d had the self-control to wait I’d have taken it as a personal insult. And then I would have made you sorry.’

He gave her a curious look. ‘I think you will one day, in any case,’ he said.

‘Perhaps we should both look forward to that.’

She rose, reaching out to take some plates to the sink, but he forestalled her. ‘Leave it to me.’

‘There’s no need to fuss me like an invalid.’ She laughed. ‘I really can do things for myself.’

His reply was a look of sadness. ‘All right,’ he said after a moment.

‘Lysandros, honestly-’

‘I just wish you’d let me give you something-do things for you-’

Heart-stricken, she touched his face, blaming herself for being insensitive.

‘I didn’t want to be a nuisance,’ she whispered. ‘You have so many really important things to do.’

He put his arms right around her and drew her close against him.

‘There’s nothing more important than you,’ he said simply.

Later she was to remember the way he’d held her and wonder at it. It hadn’t been the embrace of a lover, more the clasp of a refugee clinging onto safety for dear life. He couldn’t have told her more clearly that she’d brought something into his life that was more than passion-more life-enhancing while he had it, more soul-destroying if he lost it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WHEN the washing-up was done Petra asked, ‘What are we going to do today?’

‘You’re going to rest.’

‘I think a little gentle exercise will be better for me. I could continue exploring the cellar-’

‘No!’ This time there was no doubt that he meant it. ‘We can have a short outing, an hour on the beach, and lunch, then back here for you to rest.’

‘Anything you say.’

Lysandros regarded her cynically.

There was a small car in the garage and he drove them the short distance to the shore, where they found a tiny beach, cut off from the main one and deserted.

‘It’s private,’ Lysandros explained. ‘It belongs to a friend of mine. Don’t stretch out in this burning sun, not with your fair skin. Do you want to get ill?’

He led her to the rocks, where there was some shade and a small cave that she used for changing. Now she was glad she’d had the forethought to bring a bathing costume when she came to Corfu, meaning to enjoy some swimming while she investigated his house. No chance had occured, but now she changed gladly, longing to feel the sun on her skin, and emerged to find that he’d laid out a large towel for her to lie on. There was even a pillow, making it blissful to lie down, although she hadn’t been awake long.

He’d brought some sun lotion to rub in, but was doubtful.

‘You shouldn’t have this as well as liniment,’ he explained. ‘We’ll leave it for a while, but you stay in the shade. No, don’t try to move the towel. Leave it where I put it.’

‘Yes, sir. Three bags full, sir.’

He frowned. ‘This is something I sometimes hear English people say, but I don’t understand it.’

She explained that the words occurred in a nursery rhyme, but he only looked worried.

‘You say it to make fun of someone?’ he ventured.

‘Only of myself,’ she said tenderly. ‘The mockery is aimed at me, and the way I’m tamely letting you give me orders.’

This genuinely puzzled him. ‘But why shouldn’t I-?’

‘Hush.’ She laid a finger over his lips. He immediately kissed it.

‘It’s for your own good,’ he protested. ‘To care for you.’

‘I know. The joke is that part of me is as much of a sergeant major as you are. I give orders too. But I let you say, “Do this, do that” without kicking your shins as I would with any other man. It’s like discovering that inside me is someone else that I’ve never met before.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, that’s how it is.’

To complete her protection he’d hired a large parasol. Now he put it up and made sure that she was well covered.

‘What about you?’ she said. ‘You might catch the sun, unless I rub some of that lotion into you.’

Unlike her, he was dark and at less danger from sunburn, but the thought of caressing him under the guise of sun care was irresistible.