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Alex left the luggage in the one little room downstairs, gave them both a broad smile and wished them well in Greek. Paul thanked him gravely, and Leonie smiled at him.
Then he had gone and they were alone. A silence fell. Leonie could hear the wind whistling through the olives and the distant whisper of the sea. Nervously, she looked around the low, dark room. There were only two windows, both rather small, and the rapidly dying light left them in semi-twilight.
'We'll need a fire,' Paul said. 'It gets cold up here in the early hours of the morning.'
While he sought out kindling she explored the downstairs area. There were two cheap easy chairs, a table and chairs, a cabinet filled with china and cooking utensils and a large, ominously old cooking range.
Paul returned and soon had a fire alight. She noticed that he used a mixture of turf and sticks. The fire smoked a little, but soon began to warm the col
d room.
'The larder is outside,' Paul told her, indicating a back door.
Leonie investigated and discovered a large stone room filled with jars and earthenware crocks, tins and various fresh foods.
'We'll have a cold meal tonight,' Paul suggested. 'Some of that cheese, bread and cold lamb.'
Obediently she carried food into the sitting-room, laid the table and they sat down to eat. The goats' cheese was unfamiliar, but palatable, and they followed it with pitta, heated over the fire until it was hot and smoke-blackened. The cold lamb had a smoky flavour too, and Paul told her it had been roasted whole over a fire outside, by the look of it. It was a favourite way of cooking lamb in these parts.
They ended with fruit: grapes, and imported oranges which Paul had had sent up here earlier for them.
Paul made coffee in a battered old tin coffee pot on the range. With the range fire going, the room was growing overheated, so he piled more turf on to the fire so that its heat gradually died down to a slow glow.
Yawning, Leonie glanced at the narrow, dark little stairs. The candles Paul had lit gave only slight illumination. Judging by the size of the down stairs room, she was anxiously wondering if there was also only one room upstairs.
'Tired?' Paul asked, helping her clear the table. 'Why not go up to bed? I'll wash up and tidy down here.'
'I'll help,' she protested, but he insisted, so, taking a candle, she made her way up the stairs.
The long, low room upstairs was dominated by one large bed covered by a woven bedspread. Leonie stood very still, staring around her, her pulses leaping.
Where did Paul intend to sleep?
She undressed and climbed into bed some time later, shivering with nerves rather than the cold.
When she heard Paul's foot on the stair she sat up and stared at the black shadow he made on the wall as he approached, a huge, terrifying profile etched against the candlelight.
Paul looked at her across the room, his hands thrust into his pockets.
'Where are you going to sleep?' she asked shakily.
Silently he glanced at the pillow beside her.
Trembling, she flung angry words at him. 'Marriage of convenience, you said? Remember? Purely platonic. I might have known this set-up was coming, that you would try something underhand and sneaky. I should have known better than to trust you!' She drew a hard, troubled breath. 'Well, whatever your plan for tonight you can forget it! I'm not sharing this bed with you. So get out of here, and don't think that because we're alone up here at the back of the world you can take advantage of your superior strength, because I warn you, if you lay one finger on me I'll put up enough of a fight to make you regret your hollow victory!'
He had listened without moving to this speech, his honey-gold head tilted, his face masked in shadows. When she was silent, he strolled slowly forward and gave her a cool,1 barbed smile.
'My dear, what makes you think I am even tempted to break my word? If you will give me some of your bedclothes and that extra pillow, I'll make myself a bed downstairs.' His blue eyes insolently mocked her. 'As I had intended in the first place.'
She was stricken with remorse, realising that beneath his cool exterior he was furious at what she had said. 'Paul, I'm sorry...' Her stammered words were ignored as he bent forward to take the pillow and the woven bedspread from her. Forgetting that she wore only a brief cotton nightdress, cut low, with thin ribbon straps to hold it up, she climbed out of the bed and followed him across the room, apologising.
'I made a fool of myself—I realise that. It was a stupid, ridiculous mistake...' She caught at his sleeve to halt his relentless progress. 'Wait, Paul! Do listen!'
'God in heaven!' he shouted suddenly, flinging down the armful of bedclothes and swinging round towards her with eyes of glittering blue stone and a face savage with rage. 'Listen? What else have I been doing for the last ten minutes? I've run out of patience, Leonie. You've driven me beyond the point of reasonable endurance. First you insult me by implying that I have no sense of honour and would break my oath lightly, then you pursue me babbling like a fool about having made a little mistake!' The blue eyes flashed comprehensively over her long, slender body, only partially clothed in thin white cotton. 'Well, it seems to me that I might as well behave in the manner expected of me. I wouldn't like to disappoint a lady.'
'Paul...' she cried in protest as he swooped on her. 'Paul, please...'
He lifted her in his arms, his face stormy with temper, and carried her back across the room to the bed, flinging her down on it with a violent gesture. Before she had time to recover, he had blown out the candle and his body hurtled across the bed, crushing the breath out of her, his arms pinning her to the pillow as his mouth sought hers.
