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for Kianthos, I’m afraid.”
Pyrakis shrugged. “A pity, I shall feel deprived. I was
looking forward to more of Miss Kate’s company. She is
excitingly responsive, like a well-tuned violin.” He kissed
her hand, then, saying something in Greek to Marc, bent
and kissed her on the mouth.
Marc took her elbow. “We must hurry. I’ll see you,
Spiro.”
He marched her back down to the harbour very fast,
his face coolly shuttered, and helped her into the yacht.
They set off at once. Kate looked back at the island, its
hills now dark and menacing with the approaching storm.
Then she sighed. She would remember that meeting
with Pyrakis all her life.
Marc shouted to her to come and help him, and she
hurriedly obeyed.
She had done little sailing before, but she was light on
her feet, and quick-witted, so they worked together in
comparative harmony.
“I don’t like the look of that sky,” he said anxiously. “I
hope we get back before that wind veers, or we may be
blown right off course. I wish I had noticed the sky
earlier.”
They were within sight of Kianthos when the wind
suddenly began to blow strongly, beating them to and fro
as if the boat were a matchstick. Kate caught a glimpse of
Marc, through a turmoil of whipped spray, and heard him
shouting to her, but the wind blew his words away.
Then the boat seemed to fly upwards, like a toy in the
grip of a giant, and she was thrown across the deck,
