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'I can do it,' she said quickly. 'I've hurt my foot, not my hand.'
'I've seen you undressed before,' he pointed out.
She flushed. 'Please, Paul .,, leave me alone
now...'
He looked down at her, his expression wry. 'You realise that you've won?'
'Won?' She was bewildered.
'We'll have to leave now. Even Argon will realise that a badly sprained ankle is a good enough excuse for ending a honeymoon in a remote hill cottage.'
'Oh!' She flushed again. It had not occurred to her, and now that it did she was forced to admit to herself that she was not very pleased with the idea. 'But I could never walk down to the road,' she protested. 'How would we get back?'
'That's easy,' he shrugged. 'I'll borrow a donkey for you from our neighbours.'
'Neighbours?' She was puzzled. 'What neighbours?'
'Petros and his family live just a few miles over the second hill,' he said.
'But that's a long walk!'
'You won't be afraid if I leave you alone at night? I'll go now and be back by morning.'
'You can't walk that far at this time of night!'
'Far less tiring than walking in daylight,' he said. 'It's so much cooler.'
'Oh, but...' She bit her lip.
He looked at her gently. 'There's no need to be afraid. There's no one on this island who would harm you. You'll be quite safe.'
Then he was gone and Leonie was alone in the circle of yellow light thrown by the candle. She felt bitter tears rise to her eyes. Their days of isolation were over. They would be leaving this little house tomorrow, and she knew she hated the thought of leaving. She had been desperately happy here today, looking forward to the other days with a sort of nervous, hopeful anticipation. She clumsily undressed and fell into bed, only to lie awake for hours listening to the owls making their melancholy sound in the olive grove.
Paul woke her up at dawn with a cup of coffee and a slice of toasted pitta. 'I've got two donkeys,' he told her. 'I'll bind your ankle carefully before we start. I think you should make it without much trouble.'
She dressed with great difficulty and hopped down the stairs. Paul turned in surprise. 'You should have waited until I carried you down,' he protested.
'How's the ankle?'
'Not too bad,' she lied.
He knelt and unwound the bandages, wincing at the swollen blue and purple lump on her foot. 'Not bad? It looks ghastly,' he said. 'It must hurt like hell.'
He bathed it in cold water again and re-bandaged it. Then he left her to drink some more coffee while he packed everything. Half an hour later they were on their way.
Leonie soon accustomed herself to the jogging of the donkey. Now and then she forgot to protect her ankle from bum
ping against something, then she had to bite her lip to silence a cry of pain. Paul was watching her all the time, his gaze sober. She knew he was anxious about her and it touched her.
They reached the road and found the silver grey limousine waiting for them. She gave an exclamation of astonishment, and Paul smiled at her.
'Petros insisted on going off to tell Argon the news,' he informed her. 'I guessed he would send the car to pick us up.'
It was only a, short while later that they were safely back at Argon's villa, and Leonie was being protectively tucked up in bed by Clyte.
Argon was furious with Paul. 'You were very careless with Leonie! This is all your fault!'
