Читать книгу Dark Avenger - Alex Ryder, Alex Ryder - Страница 6

CCARRIE had pleaded, cajoled and threatened but nothing seemed to work. She gave one final frustrated push at the starter button but the ancient diesel engine refused determinedly to fire up. Swearing softly under her breath, she backed out of the cramped engine compartment and climbed on to the deck for a breath of fresh air.

She shouldn’t have to be doing this, she thought angrily. Looking after the engine was Jimmy’s job and he’d promised to be back an hour ago. Shading her eyes against the glare of the sun, she impatiently scanned the jetty for any sign of her young brother. She was going to chew his ears off when she got her hands on him. Her gaze took in the white-painted houses and shops facing the harbour. More than likely he was sitting in some taverna staring soulfully into the dark eyes of some young local beauty. Well, that was all very well. He was a red-blooded nineteen-year-old and he was only doing what came naturally but it was high time he remembered his responsibilities. They had a living to make. If that load of supplies wasn’t delivered to the archeological team on Desvos by tonight, as promised, that would be one more customer they could kiss goodbye to.

A trickle of sweat glistened on her slender throat and ran down her neck. She wouldn’t mind sitting in a taverna sipping a cool drink herself, she thought. The August heat in the Aegean could be fierce and as she looked over the side she was almost tempted to dive into the clear blue water and cool off.

The Miranda rocked gently beneath her feet in the slight ripples made by a boat leaving harbour and she wiped the sweat off her brow with an oily rag. They needed a new engine. No, dammit, she thought, let’s not kid ourselves, Carrie Stevens. Miranda was getting old and she really needed a thorough overhaul and paint job, but as always it was time and money that was the problem. Financial survival depended on them providing a regular and reliable service between the smaller and more isolated islands. A thorough overhaul would take a month at least and that was long enough for some rival to step in and take over.

She looked along the jetty again, then, frowning with annoyance, she descended once more into the engine compartment.

She jabbed the starter again but the hope on her face turned to despair as the engine merely coughed instead of bursting into life as it was supposed to do.

This had happened before. Jimmy had merely grunted then grabbed a spanner and done the business and got the engine going. She should have paid more attention but she’d always had a thing about anything mechanical. A sort of mental block. Even her father, when he’d been alive, had never managed to get around that block. He’d taught her good seamanship and she knew the weather, tides and currents and how to read a chart. With a chronometer and a sextant she could navigate her way round the world if need be but the mysteries of valves, pumps and pistons were a closed book as far as she was concerned.

But things were going to have to change from now on, she told herself. They both had an equal stake in the Miranda and they’d have to learn each other’s jobs so that in an emergency either of them could handle the boat on their own. Then again she’d had the feeling recently that Jimmy had other things on his mind. The day might well come when he’d get tired of nursing this old wreck back and forth between islands. He might very well decide to go back to England, find a nice girl and settle down, and who could blame him?

If the worst did happen she’d simply grit her teeth and carry on by herself. She certainly had no intention of ever returning to England. There were too many bitter memories for that. The Miranda might have seen better days but at least she provided something which Carrie had learnt to value above all else: independence. She’d tried trading that in once for the promise of a wedding-ring but Victor’s promises, like everything else about him, had proved worthless.

With mounting frustration she pushed the starter a few more times. There was the usual whine then an abrupt silence which was broken by a voice from the deck. ‘You’re going to end up with a flat battery if you keep doing that.’

Turning her head awkwardly, she saw the tall figure silhouetted against the blue sky beyond the hatch.

She frowned in irritation at the stranger’s unwarranted trespass on to her boat then thought better of it. He might be a potential customer and right now she needed all the business she could get.

Emerging on to the deck, she once more blinked in the strong sunlight and looked at the visitor apologetically. ‘The engine won’t…’ Her voice trailed off in confusion as the impact of his appearance made itself felt.

‘Won’t what?’ he asked in a deep masculine voice.

‘Start,’ she said. ‘It…it won’t start.’ What the blazes was wrong with her? she wondered. Why was she acting like a nervous schoolgirl? Was it those eyes that were busy surveying her from top to toe?

He was tall and slim with wide shoulders and slim hips but it was definitely those eyes that held her attention. Light jade-green eyes, all the more startling in someone with the dark complexion of the southern Mediterranean. He was wearing dark trousers and a crisp, blinding white shirt unbuttoned down the front to reveal the hard muscles of his chest rippling beneath the smooth sun-darkened skin. An expensive gold Rolex watch gleamed dully on his wrist and his shoes were handmade Italian unless she was mistaken.

She felt her insides curling in embarrassment. If he was a potential customer she shuddered to think what kind of impression he was getting. An old converted fishing boat with peeling paint, sunbleached woodwork and a dodgy engine was bad enough but her own dishevelled appearance wasn’t likely to inspire confidence either. Her unkempt blonde hair was crammed beneath a grease-stained baseball cap. Jimmy’s overalls hung round her like a hobo’s tent and her face was streaked with oil.

The green eyes appraised her briefly, took in the state of the littered deck then returned to fasten on her once more. After a nerve-racking silence he spoke sharply. ‘I’m looking for Miss Stevens, the owner of this…this floating junkyard. Where is she?’

His derogatory tone and description of Miranda annoyed her but she swallowed her pride. When times were bad it was something you quickly grew used to.

‘I’m Carrie Stevens,’ she said with quiet dignity. She made an embarrassed gesture towards the engine compartment. ‘It’s nothing serious. My brother will be here any minute now. He’ll fix it.’

His eyes widened a fraction and he looked disappointed. ‘You’re the older sister of James Stevens?’

There always came a point where you couldn’t swallow any more pride and this was it. Just who did this character think he was, talking down to her like that? And what did he have to do with Jimmy? Jimmy had never ever mentioned meeting a tall, dark stranger with green eyes and a built-in sneer.

She drew herself erect and challenged him frostily. ‘Just what is it that you want to see me about, Mr—er—?’

‘You’ll find out all in good time,’ he informed her coldly. ‘May I suggest that you change into something more befitting a woman, and wash the grime off your face? Only then will I answer your question.’

Under the oil her face reddened and she said resentfully, ‘Look, I…I didn’t expect anyone. We’re due to sail now. Anyway, how I care to dress is my business and no one else’s.’

He ignored her outburst and went over to the engine compartment. Glancing in, he shook his head in wonder then turned to her. ‘Where did you find that? In a museum?’

She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists behind her back. ‘It isn’t that bad. I admit that it might be old but it’s perfectly good once it gets going. Jimmy can fix it. He’s done it often enough before without any trouble.’

A grim smile played across the stranger’s lips. ‘Ah, yes. James Stevens. Or Jimmy as you so fondly call him. Unfortunately he isn’t here when you need him, is he?’ He glanced at his Rolex. ‘That’s a pity. I was told that it was imperative that you delivered your latest cargo to Desvos by eight tonight. That’s a good six-hour trip for a vessel in this condition. It has already gone two.’

‘We’ll make it,’ she said with more defiant assurance than she felt. Damn Jimmy! If he had been here on time they’d be on their way to Desvos by now.

The stranger removed his shirt and hung it carefully on the rail. The action took her completely by surprise and she found herself staring in fascination at his tanned, lean and muscular body. Under the sunlight his skin seemed to glow like dark silk. At last she found her voice and she gulped. ‘Wh—what are you doing?’

‘I’m going to fix that engine,’ he said curtly. ‘And you, Miss Stevens, are going to go below and tidy yourself up so that I can see what you really look like.’

Her mouth opened in protest then she hurriedly closed it. There was a do-it-or-else look in those green eyes that sent a shiver of fear down her spine. This was not the kind of man you argued with, she told herself. You could tell he was used to having people jump at his command and though he had no legal right to be on board she wasn’t about to discuss the finer points of the law with him. He wouldn’t pay any attention in any case.

With an almighty effort she assumed an air of indifference and shrugged. ‘I was just about to have a wash when you came aboard. And if tinkering with engines makes you happy then go ahead. I don’t want to spoil your fun.’

Hurriedly she turned her back on him and went below, securing the hatch firmly behind her. Who the devil was he and what did he want? she wondered. People with handmade Italian shoes and Rolex watches didn’t hire boats like the Miranda. They were more likely to go along the coast to the place owned by the Spirakis family and hire one of their gleaming motor cruisers.

She frowned. Unless…unless he was up to something shady. Like smuggling, for example! Did he look like a shady character? Yes, she decided. Very shady indeed. And dangerous. Like someone from the Greek Mafia, if there was such a thing.

Well, as soon as Jimmy got back they’d tell him that they weren’t interested in anything like that and send him packing.

In her tiny cabin she stripped off, lit the Ascot in the tiny bathroom and scrubbed herself under a hot shower. Drying herself quickly, she donned a clean pair of jeans and a white cotton T-shirt then attacked her hair with a brush.

After a moment she laid down the brush and reached up for the faded picture of her father, which was pinned to the bulkhead. It had been taken shortly before he died and in the picture he was standing on the deck of the Miranda, grinning and looking indestructible. Any time she felt disheartened and ready to pack it all in she just had to look at this picture and it made her feel better, stronger and ready to fight for what was hers and Jimmy’s.

The Miranda had been her father’s pride and joy. An ex-navy man, he’d always dreamed of owning his own boat one day but marriage had put that dream on hold. When her mother had been alive he’d worked industriously in a nine-to-four office job, hating it but never complaining.

She’d been twelve and Jimmy had only been six when their mother had been killed. Just out shopping, for heaven’s sake! One minute strolling home from Tesco with a carrier of chicken breasts and cold ham and in an instant her life taken by some drunken fool of a company director driving home after a boozy lunch.

It had left them all shattered. But the agony hadn’t ended there. The driver had got off with a five-hundred-pound fine and two years’ suspension. There was justice for you! She’d often wondered since then if the driver and the judge had been members of the same old boys’ club. Probably. It was a lousy world and these things happened.

The compensation paid by the driver’s insurance company had been equally derisory and in disgust her father had suddenly whisked her and Jimmy off to Greece. Later he’d told her that there had been too many memories of her mother and he could never face the thought of spending the rest of his life in an office.

He’d found Miranda, drowsing and neglected at a quayside in a place called Kiparissia. She was a converted sixty-foot fishing boat and they’d all fallen in love with her at first sight. Her father had found the owner and completed the deal that very day and two days later they had headed south round Cape Matapán then east into the Aegean with its thousands of islands scattered like green emeralds across the vast blue shimmering sea.

For two months her father had been content to sail whenever the spirit moved him. Somewhere at the back of his mind he must have been wondering how they were going to live when the money ran out but he was content to leave that in the hands of fate, and it so happened that fate duly obliged.

One afternoon they had dropped anchor in a secluded bay on a tiny island when they were hailed frantically from the shore by a man waving a handkerchief. Her father had rowed ashore in the dinghy to see what was the matter and had duly returned with the news that he’d been hired to transport a wedding party of fifteen to the next island.

It seemed that the owner of the boat which was supposed to have taken them had celebrated too freely the previous night and was still out of combat.

They’d no sooner done that job than a guest at the wedding hired them to transport a dozen sheep to the nearest market.

By word of mouth their business had grown. The larger islands were served by the regular ferry lines but the smaller and more remote communities were badly in need of such a service as the Miranda could provide.

It had been the most wonderful two years of her life but it couldn’t last. Their father had rightly enough decided that their education was being sadly neglected and, much to their dismay and his sorrow, he’d sent them back to separate boarding-schools in England.

After the free and easy life aboard the Miranda the rigours and discipline of a strict school had been like a douche of cold water, but looking back on it now she knew that it had been a valuable experience.

Greece of course was only a few hours away by plane and every school holiday had found her and Jimmy flying out to spend another few glorious weeks with their father.

Then she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. Even now, seven years later, she still felt sick at heart when she thought about it. She’d been eighteen, and with her father’s approval she’d decided to stay in England and go to university, but she’d never even got as far as applying for a place. Oh, no. Trust her to make a mess of everything.

She pinned the picture of her father back on the bulkhead then stared at herself in the mirror. No. She wasn’t going to think about Victor. That was all in the past. It was history and she had no desire to re-open old wounds.

Hurt and bewildered at the time, her first thought had been to rejoin her father but she’d had second thoughts. For one thing, Jimmy had still been at school and it might have seemed to him that he was being deserted and forgotten. But there had also been a darker and deeper reason—guilt and a feeling of self-disgust. A failed relationship surely didn’t mean that she herself was a failure, did it? The only way to find out was to stay and try to make it on her own.

She’d enrolled in a college for a two-year course in business studies, then, armed with her diploma, she’d set out, brimming with confidence, to land a job worthy of her talents.

Well, there were jobs in plenty. Part-time checkout operator. Part-time barmaid or waitress. Girls with better qualifications than she had were cleaning offices to earn a living.

Things would get better once the recession was over, they kept telling her. She’d eventually landed a job with a travel agency where her knowledge of the Greek islands and proved a great asset, but the sight of all those tempting travel brochures had only unsettled her and made her long once more for the feel of a deck beneath her feet. Nevertheless she had stuck it out.

It was two years later when her father had died in a sudden and tragic accident. Jimmy had left school by now and had started an apprenticeship in a local garage. They had both flown out in time for the funeral and found comfort in each other’s arms at this time of the greatest grief they had ever known.

When the service was over they had both shaken hands with the many friends who’d come to pay their last respects, then their father’s lawyer had driven them to his office.

There was a little money, he had explained, but if they were interested he could dispose of the Miranda for them. He was sure he could find a buyer prepared to pay a reasonable price.

‘No!’ She and Jimmy had turned down the offer in unison and they had looked at each other in mutual understanding. The Miranda had been their father’s dream and to sell it to a stranger would be an insult to his memory. Besides, England no longer held anything for them. They’d keep the Miranda and carry on the business their father had started.

The lawyer had looked at them doubtfully but when she had assured him that she and Jimmy could easily handle the Miranda between them he’d reluctantly given in and agreed to see to the necessary formalities and paperwork.

Three days later, full of confidence and with a list of their father’s regular calls, they had set off in the Miranda to deliver a load of piping and a water pump destined to make life easier for the villagers on a tiny island south of Naxos…

The faint noise broke into her thoughts and she felt the slight tremor as the engine began throbbing. Good. Jimmy must have returned. Now she could tell that interfering stranger to go away and mind his own business.

Her blue eyes stared back at her critically from the mirror. The years in the sun had bleached her naturally blonde hair to platinum. Usually, for practical reasons, she kept it short, but she hadn’t been near a hairdresser for months. Now she simply tied it back carelessly with a black ribbon. She never wore make-up, not even on the rare occasions when they found themselves calling at one of the larger islands during the tourist season. Her complexion and colouring were entirely due to her active outdoor way of life. No cosmetic had yet been made that could compete against sunshine and soft rain.

Finally she slipped her feet into a pair of ropesoled sandals and made her way up on deck.

Emerging into the daylight, she stood for a moment frozen in surprise, then she gasped in outrage. Not only had the stranger managed to start the engine, he’d also cast off the bow and stern lines and was now in the wheelhouse, and they were already a hundred yards away from the jetty and heading out to the open sea!

Frantically she gazed around the deck and into the engine compartment but there was no sign of her brother. Furiously she called up to the wheelhouse, ‘Hey! You there! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Turn this boat round immediately.’

The stranger ignored her for a few moments while he consulted the compass reading then he locked the wheel and casually descended to the deck to confront her.

He still wasn’t wearing his damn shirt, she noted with discomfort, and she glared at him. ‘Turn this boat round. My brother isn’t here yet.’

The green eyes were now roving over her body with an intense interest and the raising of a dark, quizzical eyebrow gave his lean features an even more devilish look. ‘Surely you can’t be the woman I was talking to a few minutes ago?’ he drawled. ‘She was shapeless and covered in oil. You can’t possibly be the Carrie Stevens I came to see. Are you?’

She felt practically naked under his hard stare of undisguised lust and her mouth went dry. ‘L-look…’ she stammered ‘…you’ve no right to—’

He went on as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘I hadn’t expected anyone quite so sexually attractive, Miss Stevens. But the fact that you are will make my mission a pleasure rather than mere duty.’

She had no idea what he was talking about but by the sound of it she was in deep trouble. Taking a deep breath, she put her hands on her hips. ‘I’m going to report this act of piracy to the police. You’ll be in big trouble.’

‘No, you won’t, Miss Stevens.’ He suddenly showed a row of white teeth in a shark-like ironic smile. ‘“Miss Stevens” sounds far too formal. Since we’re going to have a very intimate relationship I think I’ll call you Carrie from now on. I am Nikos Spirakis.’ He paused and for a moment his jade eyes gleamed with cold amusement. ‘Does that name mean anything to you, Carrie?’

She let her eyes smoulder at him in anger for a moment then she snapped, ‘No. Why should it? I’ve never…’ She paused as a sudden thought flashed into her head. Spirakis? No, it couldn’t be! And yet…There was something about him. He had that cold selfassurance that only wealth and power could bestow. She looked at him more closely then said hesitantly, ‘The…the only Spirakis I’ve heard of is the family who own half the ships and olive groves…’

He raised a hand. ‘I know exactly what we own. You could say that we are one of the richest and most powerful families in Greece.’ There was no hint of a boast in his voice. He was merely stating a fact.

She gulped. Everyone knew about the Spirakis family but if they talked about them it was mostly in whispers behind closed doors. The general consensus seemed to be that it would be safer to spit in the devil’s face than have a Spirakis as an enemy.

Of course it had all been hearsay as far as she’d been concerned but now that she was actually face to face with one she was beginning to think that there was more than a grain of truth in the accusations.

Quelling the feeling of panic that was rising in her breast, she mustered as much dignity as she could and said frostily, ‘I don’t care how rich or powerful you are, Mr Spirakis. You’ve still no right to be aboard this boat. If you don’t turn us round I’ll do it myself. My schedule means that I won’t be back here for at least a month. I can’t leave my brother stranded. At least I’ll have to find out if anything has happened to him.’

His mouth gave a sardonic quirk. ‘You have my personal assurance that your brother is perfectly safe and unharmed.’ He paused for a moment then added softly, ‘For the time being at least. His ultimate welfare is entirely in your hands.’

The colour drained from her face. ‘What is that supposed to mean? Where is he?’

‘Working in one of our olive groves under the strict supervision of my uncle and cousins. At least it’ll give him time to contemplate the error of his ways.’

Her eyes widened and she felt a chilling knot of fear in her stomach. ‘I…I don’t know what this is all about, Mr Spirakis, but I warn you that if anything happens to Jimmy I…I’ll—’

He dismissed her threat with a snort and his green eyes provoked and taunted her. ‘You’re very fond of your brother, I imagine.’

‘Dammit!’ she flared up at him. ‘What kind of stupid question is that? Of course I’m fond of him. He’s all the family I’ve got.’

His voice turned raw with cold condemnation. ‘So you simply turn a blind eye to his promiscuous way of life because he’s your brother?’

Her mouth dropped open in astonishment then she laughed uncertainly. ‘Jimmy? Promiscuous? You’re mad.’

‘Perhaps you don’t know him as well as you think you do,’ he growled. ‘He is an attractive youth with an easy charm. Most girls would find him irresistible. Do you expect me to believe that he hasn’t exploited those assets to his advantage?’

‘Jimmy isn’t like that,’ she said in heated defence. ‘I’m not saying that he doesn’t go out with girls whenever he has the chance but he would never cause any of them any…any harm.’

He mocked her with a derisive smile. ‘Come, now. A nineteen-year-old boy isn’t likely to boast of his conquests to his older sister, is he?’

That knot of fear was growing larger. She already had some idea what all this was leading up to but she prayed fervently that she was wrong.

For a moment he watched the conflicting emotions on her face then he nodded with quiet satisfaction as if he’d proved a point. Still mocking her, he said, ‘It may be some comfort to you to know that your brother thinks very highly of you. He seems to worship you. At least that’s the impression he gave my uncle, who had a very long and informative talk with him.’

‘We’ve always been close,’ she said stiffly.

‘Good. If it had been otherwise I’d be wasting my time here.’ The green eyes began stripping her again with obvious anticipation. ‘Now let’s talk about you for a change, shall we? Tell me about your boyfriends…your lovers. Does promiscuity run in your family?’

Her cheeks flamed and she clenched her fists. ‘You can go to hell.’

He eyed her in cold silence then shrugged. ‘If I go to hell then so does your brother. As I said before, his fate is entirely in your hands.’

The unmistakable note of menace in his voice sent another shiver down her back and she gulped. ‘I…I’ve only ever had one boyfriend. It was years and years ago.’

He raised an eyebrow in frank disbelief. ‘Do you take me for a fool, Miss Stevens?’

Her cheeks burned again and she gritted her teeth. ‘Look, I don’t give a damn whether you believe it or not. Running this ship has kept me busy. I’ve no time for emotional entanglements of that sort.’

‘No time?’ he mused. ‘Or is it a case of no inclination?’ The green eyes challenged her then he said softly, ‘Now is as good a time as any to find out.’

She tried to jump back but he was too quick for her and she found herself suddenly imprisoned in his arms. Her cry of protest died in a gasp as he crushed her to his chest.

Grinning down at her, he murmured in approval, ‘Such a soft, yielding body. Now we’ll see if your lips are as yielding,’ One of his hands came up to grab her hair and she found herself staring up in fear into the fathomless depths of his sea-green eyes.

She closed her own eyes quickly as his mouth descended on hers and the shock kept her rigid and tight-lipped. Undeterred by her initial refusal to respond, his tongue began teasing and probing and finally forced an entry into the warm, dark sweetness of her mouth. Oh, God, she thought. When was the last time she’d been kissed like this? When had she ever been kissed like this? This was provocation beyond endurance and she could feel her limbs losing their strength.

The warmth of his bare chest and the steady beating of his heart transmitted itself through her thin cotton T-shirt and she cursed herself for not having bothered to put on a bra. Surely he could feel her nipples hardening against his body and that would only inflame him further. The hands she raised in a half-hearted attempt to push him away betrayed her and slid under his arms to clasp his back and the touch of his smooth skin sent an aching tremor through her thighs.

As his tongue continued to explore her mouth she responded, slowly at first, then as desire swelled and swept aside reason her own tongue began replying in erotic abandon. Now every nerve-end in her body began to tingle as she felt his hand slide under her T-shirt and a low moan came from her throat as he caressed her breast. His touch was fire—a scorching heat that would brand her forever.

His knee began forcing itself between her thighs and she fought desperately to cling to the last shreds of her sanity. This had to stop. Here and now. Shocked and ashamed at the demon he’d unleashed inside her, she brought her hands round and pushed hard against his chest. Frantically she tore her mouth from his and gasped, ‘Stop it! Let…let me go, damn you.’

Denied the pleasures of her mouth, his lips found her neck and began to trace a path of incandescent sensuality from her ear to the tender hollow of her throat. As she teetered on the brink of complete and utter surrender, wanting him, needing him to relieve this intolerable aching desire, only one tiny spark of reason shone feebly in the dark maelstrom of her mind and she raised her hands to force his face away.

With a grunt he released her and she staggered back on her heels, her chest heaving.

He touched his cheek and examined the tiny spot of blood on his finger then his lips stretched in a feral grin as he surveyed her with approval. ‘So the fair English rose has a thorn. She’s willing to fight to defend her honour. You’ve no idea how much that pleases me, Carrie.’

The scratch had been unintentional but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Instead, she muttered darkly, ‘If you ever touch me again I won’t use a thorn. I’ll use something heavy and likely to be lethal.’

He dismissed her threat with a cold, derisory smile. ‘Don’t worry, Miss Stevens. I’ve no intention of forcing myself on you again. If it were merely your body I was after you’d be pinned helplessly to the deck right now and I’ve no doubt that you’d be writhing in ecstasy.’

Her breathing was returning to normal and her mind was beginning to function rationally once more. Lowering her eyes, she realised that her threat had been ridiculous. She could see that now. Her puny strength was no match for that of a man of his build and power and if he’d really intended taking her against her will a mere scratch on the cheek wouldn’t have stopped him. There was also the sickening realisation that he was capable of inflaming her passion to such a height. Now she felt nothing but self-disgust at her own weakness and easy arousal. Perhaps, buried deep beneath all that armour of self-discipline and moral rectitude, she really was a promiscuous little harlot at heart.

Eyeing him with resentful suspicion, she said accusingly, ‘You appear to think that you’ve some sort of hold over me because of my brother. What did he ever do to harm you?’

‘Not to me, Carrie,’ he said in a voice that was suddenly harsh with bitterness and anger. ‘To my sister—Helen, as you would call her in English.’

A cold hand clamped itself over her heart and she bit her lip. It was clear to her now. She knew the importance of family honour to men such as him. The idea of a practically penniless deckhand, and a foreigner at that, presuming to cast an eye on his sister must have been the ultimate insult.

‘Look,’ she said quietly, ‘Jimmy listens to me. I…I’ll warn him to keep away from your precious sister in future. Anyway I’m sure he meant no harm.’

The cold green eyes studied her in nerve-racking silence once more then he said bitterly, ‘Helen is a beautiful girl. Eighteen years old. She was betrothed to the son of a friend. They were to be married in six months’ time but thanks to your brother that wedding can no longer take place.’

‘Oh, come on now,’ she protested. ‘Just because Jimmy went out with your sister there’s no need to—’

His voice cut into her like a whip. ‘He did more than just “go out” with her. He dishonoured her. She is pregnant and your brother is the father.’

The colour drained from her face and she stared at him in shocked disbelief. Finally she whispered, ‘That…that can’t be true. Jimmy wouldn’t be so stupid…I mean…you couldn’t be mistaken about this, could you?’ As soon as she’d said it she knew that it was the kind of question only a fool would ask and she flinched at his withering reply.

‘Don’t take me for a fool. Did you think I’d come here unless I was absolutely certain of the facts?’

Feeling sick to the stomach, she bit her lip in frustration. How could Jimmy have been so bloody stupid? The damned idiot. It would have been bad enough had it been any other girl but he’d had to go and get himself involved with one of the Spirakis clan! Well, perhaps he hadn’t known who she was and the girl had neglected to tell him. But he should have had more respect for a girl no matter who she was. She felt nothing but shame that her own brother could do such a thing.

She looked hesitantly at the mask of anger directed at her and was on the point of asking him if he was quite sure that his sister hadn’t led Jimmy on then she thought better of it. He’d probably throttle her on the spot.

Adopting an air of quiet resignation, she said, ‘This is as distressing to me as it is to you. I really do feel sorry for your sister. There’s absolutely no excuse for what Jimmy did. He’s old enough to know better. But I really don’t see what I can do about it.’

‘You at least agree that he should be punished?’

‘What do you mean—punished?’ she asked warily. She’d heard some pretty graphic descriptions of the way these proud and arrogant Greeks repaid insults to their family honour. And if the family was rich and powerful enough the guardians of the law had a habit of looking the other way.

‘An eye for an eye, Miss Stevens,’ he said with a grim smile, ‘a tooth for a tooth. I’m sure you’re familiar with the biblical reference?’

For a moment she couldn’t fathom what he was talking about then a seed of suspicion exploded and bloomed sickeningly in her mind.

Seeing the effect his threat had on her, he nodded with ironic amusement. ‘Yes, Miss Stevens. It’s only common justice, after all. What your brother did to my sister I can easily do to his.’ He paused, then, as if to make sure that she was in no doubt as to the fate he planned for her, he showed his teeth in another smile of grim anticipation. ‘I’m going to make you pregnant, Miss Stevens. Gloriously and abundantly pregnant.’

For a moment her breath was taken away by the sheer callousness of the man then she glared at him with a mixture of scorn and downright anger. ‘So you lied. You do intend to rape me after all. Just like the brute you really are.’ She gave him a withering snort of contempt. ‘You may be rich and you may think of yourself as a man of honour but as far as I’m concerned any man who’d contemplate such a thing is worth less than the scum in the gutters of Piraeus.’

It was a deliberate and calculated insult made with an outward show of bravado but the cold smile remained to taunt her.

‘You’ve got it all wrong, my dear Carrie. I’m not going to rape you. On the contrary. You’re the one who is going to make the running. You’re going to plead with me to make love to you. You’re going to beg me on your hands and knees.’

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes and she attempted a laugh of derision. ‘You must be stark raving mad. Hell would have to freeze over before I’d do that.’

‘You have a month,’ he told her calmly. ‘This trip will last a month and by the end of it you’d better be pregnant. Or else.. .’

‘Or else what?’ she demanded with a sneer.

His green eyes bored into her and he spoke every word slowly and carefully so that she was left in no doubt whatsoever. ‘In that case your brother will be returned to you. But my cousins will make sure that he has neither the desire nor the ability to father any more children.’

He smiled contentedly at her look of horror then he rubbed his hands together briskly. ‘Now why don’t you go below and make us some coffee while I look after the boat? We’ve got a very interesting and exhausting month ahead of us, I should say.’