Read Online PAGAN ADVERSARY by Sara Craven, Chieko Hara - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sara Craven, Chieko Hara
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these circles?'
Nicky's smile wavering at first lit up his whole face enchantingly. He
picked up his spoon and began to eat with his usual gargantuan
appetite, occasionally stealing glances at Harriet to make sure she had
not gone away.
Yannina sighed. 'It is you that he needs, thespinis ,' she said rather
sadly. 'It was a blessing you were able to come to him so swiftly. I
hope you slept in God's good health.'
'Yes.' Harriet hesitated. 'Yannina—I'm afraid I had a slight accident
last night. I was trying to find how the shower worked, and it—it
came on rather unexpectedly and your lovely nightdress got very
wet.'
'Po, po, po,' Yannina shrugged, her rather anxious face softening
warmly. 'It is nothing, thespinis. You are welcome to anything I have.
A little water matters not at all. You must not concern yourself.'
She clearly thought the faint flush that had risen in Harriet's cheeks
had been put there by guilt and remorse over the fate of the
nightdress, and Harriet could only devoutly be thankful the good
woman had no idea of the truth.
She lingered as long as possible, watching Nicky eat the rest of his
breakfast, and then getting washed and dressed in his favourite
tee-shirt and shorts. Yannina was already clearly his slave and he
knew it, which wasn't altogether a good thing, thought Harriet wryly,
but there was nothing she could say or do. Soon Nicky's character
building and training would be out of her hands completely.
When Yannina had asked her for the third time with increasing
astonishment if she herself was not hungry for her own breakfast, she
realised that she could not hang round Nicky's room like a spare part
all morning.
She had to nerve herself to go back in the sitting room Alex was
sitting at a table which had been set in the window, deep in the
financial pages of one of the Sunday papers. He rose politely as
Harriet hesitated, and indicated that she should join him, his face
unsmiling and enigmatic. He was wearing a dark suit this morning,
she noticed. The jacket was tossed across a nearby chair, and he was
tieless, with both his waistcoat and several buttons on his immaculate
shirt left casually undone, so that the strong brown column of his
throat and the beginnings of the curling mat of dark hair on his chest
were visible.
She sat down, not looking at him, concentrating on shaking out the
linen napkin and spreading it across her lap.
'Orange juice?' Alex asked. 'Croissants? Or would you prefer eggs
and bacon?'
She shook her head, murmuring a faint negative, because it seemed
unlikely she would be able to force a crumb past her lips anyway. The
orange juice was easy enough, freshly squeezed, slightly tart and
totally delicious, and that, combined with the sun coming warmly and
benignly through the window, made her spirits begin to rise a little.
A waiter appeared as if by magic with a pot of fresh coffee, and a
basket crammed with rolls, still hot to the touch, and flaky croissants.
The smell of warm, fresh bread was irresistible and Harriet
succumbed, although she was still on edge, waiting for Alex to say
something—anything. Fresh bread and tension, she thought ruefully.
I shall probably die of indigestion.
He was being very civil, pouring her coffee and passing her butter and
cherry jam almost before she was aware she wanted them, but apart
from that his attention seemed wholly absorbed in his newspaper.
At last, when he folded it and put it aside, she decided she had better
break the silence.
She said rather nervously, 'I'm sure Nicky will be fine now. I really
ought to go home.'
'I wish I shared your optimism.' He gave her a long look. 'Did it take a
long time for Nicos to adjust to you after my brother and his wife
were killed?'
She hesitated. 'He was disturbed, naturally, but I— I'd always been
there. I actually lived with them, so he was used to me. He used to ask
for them both constantly, of course. He still does.'
'And
Nicky's smile wavering at first lit up his whole face enchantingly. He
picked up his spoon and began to eat with his usual gargantuan
appetite, occasionally stealing glances at Harriet to make sure she had
not gone away.
Yannina sighed. 'It is you that he needs, thespinis ,' she said rather
sadly. 'It was a blessing you were able to come to him so swiftly. I
hope you slept in God's good health.'
'Yes.' Harriet hesitated. 'Yannina—I'm afraid I had a slight accident
last night. I was trying to find how the shower worked, and it—it
came on rather unexpectedly and your lovely nightdress got very
wet.'
'Po, po, po,' Yannina shrugged, her rather anxious face softening
warmly. 'It is nothing, thespinis. You are welcome to anything I have.
A little water matters not at all. You must not concern yourself.'
She clearly thought the faint flush that had risen in Harriet's cheeks
had been put there by guilt and remorse over the fate of the
nightdress, and Harriet could only devoutly be thankful the good
woman had no idea of the truth.
She lingered as long as possible, watching Nicky eat the rest of his
breakfast, and then getting washed and dressed in his favourite
tee-shirt and shorts. Yannina was already clearly his slave and he
knew it, which wasn't altogether a good thing, thought Harriet wryly,
but there was nothing she could say or do. Soon Nicky's character
building and training would be out of her hands completely.
When Yannina had asked her for the third time with increasing
astonishment if she herself was not hungry for her own breakfast, she
realised that she could not hang round Nicky's room like a spare part
all morning.
She had to nerve herself to go back in the sitting room Alex was
sitting at a table which had been set in the window, deep in the
financial pages of one of the Sunday papers. He rose politely as
Harriet hesitated, and indicated that she should join him, his face
unsmiling and enigmatic. He was wearing a dark suit this morning,
she noticed. The jacket was tossed across a nearby chair, and he was
tieless, with both his waistcoat and several buttons on his immaculate
shirt left casually undone, so that the strong brown column of his
throat and the beginnings of the curling mat of dark hair on his chest
were visible.
She sat down, not looking at him, concentrating on shaking out the
linen napkin and spreading it across her lap.
'Orange juice?' Alex asked. 'Croissants? Or would you prefer eggs
and bacon?'
She shook her head, murmuring a faint negative, because it seemed
unlikely she would be able to force a crumb past her lips anyway. The
orange juice was easy enough, freshly squeezed, slightly tart and
totally delicious, and that, combined with the sun coming warmly and
benignly through the window, made her spirits begin to rise a little.
A waiter appeared as if by magic with a pot of fresh coffee, and a
basket crammed with rolls, still hot to the touch, and flaky croissants.
The smell of warm, fresh bread was irresistible and Harriet
succumbed, although she was still on edge, waiting for Alex to say
something—anything. Fresh bread and tension, she thought ruefully.
I shall probably die of indigestion.
He was being very civil, pouring her coffee and passing her butter and
cherry jam almost before she was aware she wanted them, but apart
from that his attention seemed wholly absorbed in his newspaper.
At last, when he folded it and put it aside, she decided she had better
break the silence.
She said rather nervously, 'I'm sure Nicky will be fine now. I really
ought to go home.'
'I wish I shared your optimism.' He gave her a long look. 'Did it take a
long time for Nicos to adjust to you after my brother and his wife
were killed?'
She hesitated. 'He was disturbed, naturally, but I— I'd always been
there. I actually lived with them, so he was used to me. He used to ask
for them both constantly, of course. He still does.'
'And
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