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She felt some sympathy for James. He did not deserve to lose his job because of her, and on the short, stormy flight to Serendipidos she resolved that when she had finally left the island for good, which she fully intended doing at the first opportunity a letter exonerating James must be one of her first priorities.
By the time she was standing once more in the reception hall of the villa, Saffron was frozen to the bone and shivering from head to foot.
'For God's sake, woman, do you want to get pneumonia?' Alex exclaimed, and, picking her up yet again, he carried her upstairs and into the bathroom. Ruthlessly he stripped her naked, his face like thunder as ha turned on the shower tap and pushed her beneath the hot, reviving jets. 'Can you manage or shall I help?'
She tossed her head back, her green eyes burning with bitter resentment. 'No way,' she snapped back, but her chattering teeth rather spoiled her defiant attitude.
Alex stared at her naked, shivering form for a tense, angry moment, then spun on his heel and strode out of the bathroom, the violent crashing of the door making even the shower spray quiver.
The next day, Saffron awoke from a deep sleep to the sound of the helicopter departing. She stretched out a hand to where Alex had lain, as she did every morning, seeking the security and comfort of his lingering warmth, when it hit her! It was finished, over. She hauled herself up into a sitting position and glanced across the wide bed to the other pillow; it was smooth, unused.
She should be grateful, she told herself; at least Alex had had the decency to sleep somewhere else last night. After her shower, exhausted by the day's events, she had crawled into bed, her body warm, her heart a frozen lump in her chest.
A cross between a yawn and a sigh escaped her as, swinging her feet to the floor, she slipped out of bed and moved to the window. The sky was a uniform grey; it fitted her mood exactly. She glanced down at the garden; the ravages of the storm were very evident— broken branches scattered the lawn and the flowers still blooming in November were now flattened to the earth. A bit like herself, she thought sadly.
She glanced at the sea; it was cold and black, but calm. She could leave today; there was nothing to keep her here any more. Alex had never cared for her. Oh, he had raved when he'd found her with James, but it had not been out of jealousy or any real emotion. It had simply been a male reaction to an apparent blow to his ego.
Saffron turned and walked across to the dressing-room, the set of her shoulders taut and somehow lonely. Slowly she packed her case with her own clothes, barely glancing at the things Ales had bought her, pushing them to one side without a thought. She felt nothing. Zombielike, she washed and dressed in blue jeans and a wool shirt—ideal for travelling. She carried her case and holdall into the bedroom, placed her navy reefer jacket over the top, and then picked up the telephone.
She rang the airport, and within minutes was booked on a flight from Athens to London leaving that afternoon. She glanced at her wristwatch; it was nine- thirty, so she had plenty of time.
Despina gave her a funny look as she walked down the stairs carrying her bags. 'You go?' she said in fractured English.
Saffron simply smiled, a twist of her lips that did not reach her eyes, and strode info the kitchen. She helped herself to coffee and sipped it slowly, staring blankly out of the window. Her stomach rumbled loudly. I must eat something, she thought, trying to remember the last time she had eaten. Yesterday morning.
She eyed the loaf of bread that had been left on the table, strode over and cut off a chunk. She chewed the tasteless fare, her small face pale, her green eyes remote as she did so.
Five minutes later she walked out of the house with her belongings and never looked back.
The bar was almost empty, except for the proprietor. Saffron calmly requested a ride to the mainland. He gave her a puzzled look, but instructed his son to get the boat ready.
With a soft, "Thank you,' Saffron sat down on a hardwood chair at a precariously balanced plastic table. She stacked her bags next to each other and then checked her purse. She had money and her passport; everything was in order. Soon, very soon, it would all be over. . .
The bar door swung open; the boat had arrived. She half rose, glancing sideways at the open door, and sank back down on the seat as Alex walked in.
His dark gaze flicked over her still form, and on down to where her cases stood. 'Going somewhere?' he asked flatly.
'I didn't hear the helicopter,' she murmured, her eyes going to his hard face. He looked dreadful—unshaven, his eyes sunken in their sockets, his mouth a grim narrow line, like a man who had not slept for a week.
Alex stared at her. 'I came across on the yacht.'
"The yacht?' she parroted, unable to think clearly. She had her departure planned, and it did not include seeing Alex again.
Alex stepped closer and stopped, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans, pulling the fabric taut across his muscular thighs.
Saffron's eyes followed his actions and incredibly her frozen heart jerked painfully inside her. 'I'm just leaving,' she said quickly.
'Yes, I know.' Alex moved and, bending, picked up her case and bag. 'Let me help you.' And before she could object he was striding out of the door.
She leapt to her feet and dashed after him. 'No, wait. I can manage. . .' Her voice petered out as she saw the yacht moored alongside the jetty and Alex standing on the gangway leading to the Lion Lore.
He turned; his burning dark eyes raked over her. 'I can't,' he said in a gruff voice. 'Get on board or I'll carry you.'
She closed her eyes briefly. This cannot be happening, she told herself, but when she opened them again Alex was still waiting. She glanced at the silent men standing around. Obviously they had been awaiting the arrival of the yacht to assist in the mooring. She had never looked out to sea. What an idiot' There was a long, intense silence; only the lapping of the water against the jetty broke the quiet. It was as if everyone was watching to see what would happen next.
'Saffron. . .' Alex's voice cracked like a whip.
She looked at him. 'A lift to the mainland,' she prompted, in an attempt to preserve some pride, and forced herself to move. She flinched as he placed a large hand under her elbow and urged her on board. He glanced at her and withdrew the hand as soon as they reached the deck.
