Mediterranean Seduction

CHAPTER TWELVE

WHERE would she go? Charlotte wondered as she worked quietly at the kitchen table. Filling in time while Iannis waited for the call from his lawyers, she was sketching out some ideas in note form for her next piece of work. So far she had written ten words. It was one thing planning to escape—but escape to where, and to whom?

With only one flight a week leaving Iskos, she didn’t have a lot of choice. If she missed this one Marianna was the only person she knew well enough to land on her doorstep unannounced. She had said she lived next door to Iannis. It couldn’t be that hard to find her. And anything was preferable to being held captive in her own villa, Charlotte mused, slanting a look at her captor. He was completely unrepentant, even though he was just as guilty of deception as she was. And he had the audacity to look more desirable than ever, reading the local papers as if he belonged here—feet resting on a stool and his mobile phone close to hand. He might not have had a care in the world.

Was this the type of person she had turned into? Charlotte wondered angrily. Someone complacent, biddable—docile? Happy to fall in with whatever Iannis Kiriakos wanted—however unreasonable that might be? She had written the article in good faith, and there was not one word of complaint against him in a single line. Pushing back her chair in a sudden fit of temper, she lurched away from the table.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

He was faster than she was, and his voice was cold and flat. As he tried to stop her at the door Charlotte saw red. ‘Don’t you dare get in my way!’ she warned, thumping her fists on his chest. ‘I’m getting out of here.’

‘To go where?’

‘Anywhere! Away from you!’

He swore in Greek, and seized hold of her wrists, but Charlotte shook him off and pulled away. Reaching for her, Iannis stepped backwards, met with the stool and tripped over it, bringing Charlotte crashing down to the floor on top of him.

It took a few moments for Charlotte to get her breath back, and then she saw Iannis was lying very still beneath her, with his eyes closed. His arms were still locked around her waist, as if he had been trying to protect her as they fell.

‘Are you all right?’ she demanded anxiously, levering herself up to take a proper look at him.

His eyes snapped open. ‘What do you think?’

‘Don’t tease me like that,’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘It’s not funny, Iannis. You could have been hurt.’

‘And you’d care?’

Charlotte huffed impatiently. ‘No.’ But that wasn’t true and he knew it. ‘I’m sorry you fell.’

‘How sorry?’ Iannis challenged huskily, and suddenly she was aware of his warm, hard body beneath her own.

‘Sorry enough,’ Charlotte muttered mutinously. But she could feel his erection pulsing hard beneath her. ‘You?’ she demanded, her voice strong but her body softening in spite of the warnings ringing in her head.

‘About the same,’ he agreed, a touch of humour forcing one corner of his mouth up. ‘Truce?’

‘Possibly,’ Charlotte agreed waspishly as an idea occurred to her. ‘But—’

‘But?’ Iannis echoed, the softly delivered consonants drawing her attention to his lips.

‘Only if you agree to let me go the moment—’

‘You’re free to go now,’ he cut in, lifting his hands away from her, ‘as long as you don’t leave the villa. But I warn you, Charlotte. I intend to resolve this matter today. I need your assurance that you will stay.’

Then he could have it, Charlotte mused, starting to free his shirt from the waistband of his jeans. The flesh beneath was hard and tanned, the dark hair from his chest tapering and disappearing beneath the sturdy leather belt. As she pushed the fabric higher with her hands she dipped her head and licked a little, teasing until he groaned beneath her. ‘You’re my hostage now,’ she explained, turning her attentions to the buckle on his belt, ‘and until I get what I want you’re going to stay right here.’

Iannis sighed contentedly as she undid the belt and started on his button fly. ‘No, no. Stop,’ he protested weakly.

‘Sorry, can’t do that,’ Charlotte told him. ‘You have been a very bad boy, Iannis, and now you have to pay.’

While she released each button with an agonising lack of haste, Iannis tugged off his shirt and cast it aside.

He looked so magnificent she had to pause for a moment. Why not enjoy it, Charlotte asked herself, lavishing a gaze on his powerful chest. He was hers for the moment, truly hers, to do with as she liked—all identity stripped away. Right now it didn’t matter whether it was Iannis the fisherman or Iannis the tycoon beneath her hands. He felt fantastic and she intended to take her fill of him.

The muscles running down his arms and across his shoulders were relaxed, and Charlotte felt a stab of discontent. She longed for them to flex as he reached out for her, but Iannis seemed content to lie still and do nothing while she made love to him. Charlotte felt her senses surge. He was full of surprises.

‘Well?’ he demanded sardonically. ‘Are you going to master me, tiger woman?’

‘Watch me,’ Charlotte murmured, but he was already reaching behind her head and feeling for the clip that held up her hair. Freeing it, he tossed it aside, and then combed his fingers through her long Titian waves until they tumbled in profusion around her face.

‘Beautiful,’ he observed softly. ‘Now take your top off.’

Straddling him, Charlotte did as he asked, but kept her bra in place. ‘Up,’ she ordered softly. Freeing his jeans, she drew in a fast breath. ‘Who said you could go commando?’ she demanded, firming her mouth sternly.

‘I wasn’t aware that there was a law against it,’ Iannis pointed out as his lips tugged down in a rueful expression. ‘I was in a hurry to get here this morning. Oh, and by the way, would you like me to keep my boots on?’

‘You can take them off,’ Charlotte allowed generously.

‘You’re in charge.’

‘Too right,’ Charlotte agreed, flashing him a seductive smile as she turned to free the laces on his boots.

Now he was quite naked, and she took a moment to relish the whole delicious length of him.

‘Do you like what you see?’ Iannis demanded softly.

‘You know I do.’

He raised his hands above his head in a gesture of complete acquiescence. ‘So, enjoy,’ he offered huskily.

‘Arrogant brute,’ Charlotte whispered, feeling her senses quicken.

‘You love it,’ Iannis observed in a low drawl. And as a way to pass the time until his lawyers called it could scarcely be bettered, he mused with satisfaction.

‘Iannis,’ Charlotte murmured softly, combing her hair through with her fingers in a gesture that was both languorous and intensely seductive, ‘do you ever indulge in fantasies?’ She watched his sweeping ebony brows draw together in an expression of perplexity.

‘Do you?’ he countered in a low voice, his lips tugging up in the suggestion of a knowing smile.

‘Answer me first,’ Charlotte insisted, adopting a tone that was a little sterner. ‘Do you, for instance, ever fantasise about being tied up?’

She watched as his eyes darkened, and saw there was a flare of black humour at their depths.

‘You, beautiful lady, can do whatever you want with me,’ Iannis told her with a compliant sigh, stretching his arms above his head to grip hold of the sturdy cast-iron fender.

Reaching for his discarded belt, Charlotte returned quickly to his side and, kneeling down, started to wind it around his wrists. ‘I shall have to make you quite secure,’ she observed reluctantly, ‘but not so tight that it hurts.’

‘Feel free,’ Iannis encouraged her, sighing with contentment, even moving a little to make it easier for her.

‘Oh, I will,’ Charlotte assured him, flashing a glance to each side of the fender. Seeing that it had been built into the fabric of the wall, she knew she could have tethered a bull to it without a moment’s fear of it escaping.

‘There,’ she said at last, sitting back on her haunches to approve her handiwork. ‘That should do it.’

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Iannis agreed huskily. ‘Now, why don’t you take your clothes off and make yourself more comfortable?’ he suggested, testing his bonds.

Charlotte held her breath as she watched him flex both hands. The belt remained firmly in place. Stroking his stomach lightly, she returned the ironic challenge in his gaze, and then quickly moved on to his caress his arms and shoulders. Running the tips of her nails across his chest, she circled his taut nipples through the dark hair.

‘You temptress,’ he husked, bucking towards her.

‘Naughty,’ Charlotte warned softly, casting a glance at the belt again, just to make sure it remained firmly in place. ‘You are not allowed to do anything at all—except lie there and take it.’

‘Suits me,’ Iannis conceded.

‘But I shall still have to punish you for that small rebellion,’ she informed him, dipping her head to nibble on one hard brown nipple whilst teasing the other mercilessly between thumb and forefinger.

‘Punish me some more,’ Iannis begged when she stopped.

‘If you insist,’ Charlotte said, and she reached for her top.

‘Why are you putting it on?’ he said, frowning.

Charlotte paused. ‘Because,’ she said silkily, ‘I’m going, Iannis. Enjoy,’ she added on her way out of the door.

Maybe she had been wrong about that bull, Charlotte thought, running out of the villa with Iannis’s bellow of rage ringing in her ears. She could still hear the fender rattling when she reached the cliff-top.

Fear and excitement made her reckless, and she didn’t notice any pain as she slid down the steep path on her backside. She felt as if all the dogs of hell were on her heels, and knew Iannis would not be far behind her—even if he had to take the wall of the villa down stone by stone.

Making it to the beach, she raced across the cool, firm sand to the place she knew Iannis left his rowing boat. Panic and desperation gave her strength, and by tugging and rocking she finally managed to get it afloat. Up to her waist in water, she clambered aboard, using the rocks as a lever to make sure the small craft didn’t turn turtle as she heaved herself over the side. She could hardly believe how much strength it took just to keep the rowing boat pointing out to sea, and, standing with her legs apart, she was forced to press against the rocks in her battle to clear them and get away from the shore.

When Iannis was in control it looked so easy, Charlotte realised as she freed the oars and dipped them into the water. It took her a few moments to get the hang of things, and she was grateful for the strength in her arms, thanks to all the swimming she did.

Once she was underway Charlotte began to relax. Cutting straight across the horseshoe bay would be the shortest route to Marianna’s home. Throwing back her head exultantly, she closed her eyes. ‘I did it!’ she cried to the answering gulls. The warm air felt good on her face. She had proved herself more than a match for Iannis Kiriakos.

But maybe she had gone a bit too far. Charlotte’s eyes snapped open as she conjured up a selection of horrific possibilities. What if he couldn’t get away? What if there was a fire? What if something happened to him? She’d have to go back.

She spun around and her heart stopped. He was standing on the cliff edge, staring down at her, a menacing black silhouette, tall and forbidding against the relentless blue of the sky.

Charlotte’s start of alarm had made the boat rock perilously. For a few moments she was fully occupied trying to steady it, and when she looked up again he had gone.

It seemed to take for ever to row across the bay. Charlotte had to battle a weak but insistent current as well as her own nervous exhaustion. Only sheer determination kept her going, kept her resolve fixed on reaching the opposite shore.

It was too late to realise she should have thought to bring something to drink and a hat. And as the day wore on the sunlight only grew stronger. Soon she was suffering from the effects of dehydration as well as sunburn. Her eyes felt as if they were glued together with salt, and she could hardly see from the effects of the harsh light bouncing off the surface of the water.

She was almost crying with relief by the time she reached the small wooden jetty and tied up the boat. Then, tumbling into the water fully dressed, she submerged herself completely in the lazy, rolling surf and felt the cool water soothe her. But thirst quickly drove her out of the sea and, finding her feet on the pebble floor of the tiny harbour, she pulled herself upright and waded back to shore.

Marianna’s home lay exactly where Charlotte had supposed it would—just across the wall from Iannis’s cottage. Freshly painted in white, it had bright blue shutters, and the walls were festooned with bright pink bougainvillaea.

As she drew closer she heard children shouting and glasses clinking together. There was a constant hum of laughter and chatter. It was clearly the social hub of the neighbourhood, she realised as she stumbled up the path. She was past caring what she looked like. She wasn’t about to give up now and go back to be held against her will by Iannis.

Maybe they were both in the wrong, but Charlotte knew she had spent enough of her life caving in—and Iannis was not the type of man to admit he had made a mistake. He could accept her as an equal or not at all, Charlotte thought, firming her lips. Remembering his pride, she knew that meant she had probably seen the last of him.

She managed a sound of gratitude as a young woman came from the house and took hold of her arm. Staring at Charlotte with concern, the girl exclaimed in Greek, and then began speaking rapidly to her in the same language.

‘I’m sorry…I don’t—’ Charlotte got no further, and, shaking her head in frustration, bit down on her lip in an attempt to stem the flow of tears down her cheeks.

‘Mama, Mama!’ Still holding on to her arm, as if she might try to get away, the young woman called urgently through the open door before turning back again to Charlotte.

‘I’m fine, really. I’m absolutely fine,’ Charlotte insisted, drying her cheeks on the back of her hand. She discovered that her face stung like mad. Tracing her cheekbones with her fingertips, she found that her whole face was on fire.

Marianna burst out of the front door and, quickly summing up the situation, she took hold of Charlotte’s arm and ushered her into the house. Without a word needing to be said, everyone who was gathered there quietly left.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spoil your party,’ Charlotte said. ‘I just didn’t know where else to go—’

Holding her at arm’s length, Marianna slowly shook her head from side to side as she clicked her tongue. ‘What have you done?’ she exclaimed softly.

If you only knew! Charlotte thought, wanting to feel her face again to check the damage.

But Marianna took hold of her hand in a firm grip. ‘You must not touch your face,’ she instructed. ‘I shall apply some balm to soothe the skin, and then you must rest. But first you must have a cooling bath to wash all this salt off.’ She clicked her tongue again as she examined Charlotte more closely, and when she saw the cuts and bruises on her legs from the rapid flight down the cliff she exclaimed softly in Greek. ‘What were you thinking of?’ she murmured, leading Charlotte out of the kitchen.

‘I’ve done a terrible thing,’ Charlotte admitted as Marianna led her down a shady passage.

‘You should know better than to stay out in the sun for so long.’

‘No, no—not that—something far worse,’ Charlotte said, needing to confess.

Marianna didn’t answer right away. Taking her into a small bathroom, she began to run the water, testing the temperature as it gushed into a large white bath. Then, straightening up, she planted her hands on her hips and levelled a look of concern on Charlotte’s face. ‘What have you done that is so terrible—apart from getting yourself badly burned by the sun? You had better say before I leave you. I can see it is eating you up inside.’

‘I tied Iannis up,’ Charlotte blurted.

Marianna looked suitably incredulous, but then, Charlotte noticed, she almost smiled. ‘You did what?’

‘I wrote an article about him,’ Charlotte explained, trying to make Marianna understand how serious it was. ‘He became very angry when he found out—so I tied him up.’

Marianna covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile, then, drawing her brows together in concern, she said, ‘And where is he now?’

‘He is coming after me—he broke free.’

‘Ah, I see,’ Marianna said, her lips turning down at the corners as she thought about it.

This was not the time to be contemplating a long, relaxing soak in the bath, Charlotte realised, going to peer anxiously out of the small window.

‘Come away from there,’ Marianna insisted. ‘This is no time to worry about Iannis Kiriakos. First you must do as I say, or you will suffer very badly as a result of this sunburn.’ ‘But what if—’

Marianna held up her hand. ‘You are safe here with me. This is my home. Iannis respects that. He will not see you if I do not wish him to.’

‘You don’t know what he’s like—’

Marianna raised her eyebrows quizzically. ‘I can assure you I do,’ she said. ‘I have known Iannis Kiriakos from the moment he was born.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I was his nanny,’ Marianna said, her eyes brightening at the memory.

Charlotte looked at her as another piece of the jigsaw slotted into place. ‘And you’ll keep him away from me?’ she asked dubiously.

‘Believe me,’ Marianna assured Charlotte as she studied her face again, ‘I would not dream of allowing Iannis to see you tonight.’

Charlotte couldn’t wait to get to the mirror after Marianna left the bathroom. She was horrified by what she saw—especially as she had been so careful with her fair skin. For nearly four weeks she had been sensible, only to end up now looking like a bright red tomato.

‘You will sleep on your back,’ Marianna advised later in a bedroom, after she had applied some soothing balm to Charlotte’s burning skin.

‘But if Iannis should come looking for me—’

‘Leave Iannis to me,’ Marianna insisted firmly, closing the shutters before she went out. ‘Goodnight, and sleep well,’ she said, turning to smile at Charlotte. ‘And stop worrying about Iannis—about anything. You are quite safe now.’

Charlotte gusted a heavy sigh, knowing there was little chance she would sleep. But the white cotton sheets were crisp and cool, and the pillowcases carried a faint scent of lavender. She uttered one more sigh as she snuggled down, and then knew nothing more until the strutting general of the chicken run called his troops to order at dawn the next morning.

Coming slowly out of a deep sleep, Charlotte listened to everything carefully with her eyes firmly shut. There was a symphony of sound out in the yard that told her Marianna was giving the animals their first feed of the day. Once she had sifted through the various strands of sound Charlotte knew that the cottage itself was deep in silence.

Slowly the events leading up to her arrival at Marianna’s home seeped into Charlotte’s thoughts, spoiling the short, relaxing interlude she had been enjoying between sleep and consciousness. Putting her hands up to her face, she tentatively pressed her fingertips into the flesh. There was hardly any pain there now, and, opening her eyes, she sat up to reach for the small pot of balm Marianna had left on the table by the side of the bed.

Padding barefoot across the cool tiled floor, Charlotte examined her reflection in the small mirror hanging on the wall. Her face was still pink, but not red and shiny as it had been the previous night. There was a distinct improvement. Taking the lid off the pot and scooping up some balm, she tested it between her fingers. It was like a white chalky paste, but the smell was not unpleasant. Applying it thickly, she left two pink circles around her eyes. The effect was quite startling, but that hardly mattered. All she cared about was the soothing effect and the balm’s healing properties, and she could feel it taking effect already.

Returning the pot to the bedside table, she thirstily drained the last drop of water Marianna had left for her and then crossed the room to get some more.

She felt like a galleon in full sail as she hurried down the passage towards the kitchen. The nightdress she had borrowed from Marianna was like a tent, and just as concealing. Down to her ankles and high at the neck, it had long sleeves that finished in a neat buttoned cuff. ‘Voluminous’ wasn’t the word for it, she thought with amusement, swirling the skirt like a Spanish dancer as she pushed open the kitchen door.

She froze on the threshold. Iannis stood facing her in the centre of the room.

Iannis could never have been prepared for the way his heart lurched at the sight of Charlotte. He had given his word to Marianna that he would do nothing to alarm her; that had been his ticket into the house. But he was well within his rights to slap her with a lawsuit. She had betrayed him, led him on—tied him up! His hands balled into fists as he stared at her. With all her false bravado stripped away and her gauzy hair billowing around her shoulders like a shimmering gold cape she was mesmerising. But her face! He watched her hand fly up in consternation as he looked at her.

‘Where’s Marianna?’ Charlotte demanded hoarsely. ‘What have you done with her?’ Her heart was thundering. She had brought nothing but trouble to a woman she really cared about.

‘Nothing has happened to Marianna,’ Iannis said, more sharply than he had intended. ‘She is tending the animals. She knows I am here.’

As Charlotte stared at Iannis her thoughts were in confusion. There was so much history between them. They had packed a lifetime into such a short period. She was overwhelmed by feelings. And had she really tied him to a fender? For goodness’ sake! She was glad of the mask provided by Marianna’s balm—at least Iannis couldn’t see her face reddening beneath it. But then she remembered Marianna saying she would not allow Iannis to see her.

‘I don’t know how you tricked her, but—’

‘I tricked Marianna?’ Iannis demanded, proudly drawing himself up. ‘You amaze me, Charlotte,’ he said, enunciating each word with glittering clarity. ‘If anyone is adept at trickery it is you, and not me.’

‘Then why are you here, if you have such a poor opinion of me?’

If only that was the case, Iannis reflected bitterly. She looked so young, so vulnerable. And the face mask, clearly something of Marianna’s concoction, only added to that impression. Even the shapeless garment she was wearing made him want to sweep her up in his arms and keep her safe beside him for ever. But he could not do that. Not after what she had done to him.

‘Why have you come here?’ Charlotte asked again, her eyes widening with apprehension.

‘I brought something for you to have a look at,’ Iannis said, pointing to a state-of-the-art laptop on the table.

Her eyes were astonishingly beautiful, Iannis registered, even if at this moment they were a vivid, wary green. It gave him some small satisfaction to see how they clearly mirrored her dawning realisation that something very bad was about to happen. With one flick of his wrist he spun the laptop around so that she could see the screen.

Charlotte crept close enough to read the text.

Iannis watched as her lips fell apart. She could not have faked that, he realised, firming his own mouth. She could not have faked that expression of absolute surprise.