When she left the flat it never dawned on Melanie that the police would have time to spot her before she could put some distance between herself and them. She felt sure that Katie would manage to keep them talking, but that was not the case. Melanie was hurrying from the square when the car started up and came towards her. She started to run, thankful for the dusk which meant that darkness would not be long. She managed to dodge into a narrow alley and emerge at the other end where she could mingle with theatre-goers and those hurrying home after working late. There were plenty of people… but she had on a bright red coat.
However, she did manage to hail a taxi and she slid in without even glancing back to see if the police car was in sight.
'Where to?' The taxi was already moving and Melanie stared stupidly at the driver's back. 'Where do you want?' he said again over his shoulder.
'The-er-Waterloo Station-quickly. I shall miss my train!'
'What time is your train?'
'Er…' She glanced at her watch and had difficulty in seeing the hands.
'Half past eight.'
'You have plenty of time-more than plenty.'
He dropped her off. She looked about her as she paid him, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. But tears were close, for she had no idea where she intended to go. She ought not to have run away in a panic like that, influenced by her sister's urgency and her own anxiety for those she loved. But there had been no time to think.
Once on the station she stared about her helplessly. Then she lifted her eyes to scan the train times and destinations. Haslemere stood out as if in huge block capitals. It was, in fact, just one of several stops made by the train going to Portsmouth.
With her ticket booked she then wondered about the place and if there was an hotel. And when she was eventually on the train she found herself opening her handbag to see how much money she had. And she found her travellers cheques. She had bought them early so as not to forget them. Her passport was there, too, in a pocket. She had taken it with her when she went for the cheques, forgetting that one no longer needed to produce one's passport in order to get the cheques.
Haslemere was reached after what seemed an eternity and she alighted, never in her life having felt so lost and alone, so helpless and weighed down by a feeling of doom. She told herself she had run away for nothing, since she must inevitably be caught sooner or later.
The road was dark after the station was left well behind but, her situation being what it was, Melanie felt the darkness and loneliness of the road was preferable to lights where she might be spotted, for she had convinced herself that her description would have been circulated to all police by now. On and on she walked, down one lonely lane after another, her mind a blank. Vaguely she knew she wanted an hotel but at the back of her mind was a fear of venturing into one, just in case she was seen by a policeman.
Lights of cars bothered her and she stepped to one side each time one came along.
And then came one with the light on top! Police! Terror seizing her, she forced her body through the prickly hedge and raced across a field. The car screeched to a stop, and too late she told herself that it was probably her suspicious behaviour that had attracted attention to herself. She raced on, reaching another lane, and there in front of her was a long, tree-lined drive. She took it without thought, aware that the car had taken the road circling the field and was now travelling down it towards the drive. Had they seen her? She cursed the red coat which would show up so clearly.
She had covered some distance before a house loomed up through the dull grey aura of advanced dusk. Vaguely her mind registered that it was a Tudor mansion, a house of charm and character but, undaunted, and further spurred on by the ominous sound of crunching gravel as the police car swung into the drive, Melanie raced on, taking a short cut across a lawn and eventually mounting the steps. She felt like an animal at bay, her breath failing rapidly, her legs like jelly, her mind fogged but yet registering the fact that two lights only were on in this dark and lonely edifice.
As she hammered on the door the only thought thrusting itself forward into her mind was that she would gain nothing, for who would proffer instantaneous help to a woman being chased by the police?
As soon as the door opened she catapulted herself into the hall, crashing against a tall lithe body which seemed to be made of iron. Weak and gasping, she clung to a white silk shirt and looked up at its owner with scared, desperate eyes.
'Help me!' she cried in wild and broken tones. 'Oh, please don't l-let them t-take me! Just give me a ch-chance to-to explain-' A choking sob in her throat stopped the rest, but already a slightly foreign voice was demanding,
'What the devil do you think you're doing?' The hands that had come out to grip her arms and push her away were as hard as the body, and the face above hers was so dark and forbidding that Melanie was tempted to turn and surrender herself to the police.
'I'm asking for help….' The cold fever of doubt brought her plea to a lingering, uncertain stop as once again she looked into that darkly forbidding face. His eyes, black pools of basalt, fixed hers as a predator fixes its prey. Her face went as white as chalk in the dumb, terrified silence, and she was thinking of Scylla and Charybdis, those redoubtable monsters, twin perils of legend, feared by mariners passing through the Straits of Sicily because one or other would be almost bound to destroy them.
Which must she choose…?
Words came without her own volition and she was pleading desperately again,
'Help me! I'm being chased-! Oh,' she faltered as the car lights flared on coming round a bend in the drive which Melanie, in her haste and panic, hadn't realised was there. It meant that the men in the car could not be sure she had come to the door of the house, since it could only be seen once the bend was negotiated.
The man jerked her unceremoniously to one side and closed the door with a soft little click.
'Take that coat off,' he ordered with that alien accent which even in her present desperate plight Melanie found attractive.
But the idea of taking off her coat was certainly not attractive!
'For wh-what reason?' she stammered nervously.
'For one thing, the colour offends my eye, but more important, I want to see what you're like.'
She swallowed. Why should he want to see her without her coat? 'I want to see what you're like….' It sounded ominous, to say the least.
'I-it isn't necessary-'
'Take it off.' The command was spoken very quietly now, but with the kind of emphasis which should not be disobeyed. Melanie felt she ought to give herself up to the police… and yet… At least she might be given some sort of a chance if she did manage to get help from this man. The web of indecision was drawing more tightly about her, but she found herself doing the foreigner's bidding when the grind of wheels on gravel told her that the car was coming to a halt.
'You had better be quick.' The warning was spoken in slow and casual tones, as if the man were half-inclined to hand her over to the police and be done with it.
She dropped the coat on to the floor and stood before him, colour drifting into the pallor of her cheeks as she saw without any doubt at all that he was now keenly interested in her body. The dark and piercing eyes travelled with a kind of sensuous arrogance from her face to her feet and then, more slowly, back again, to rest for what seemed an eternity on the delicate, virginal outline of her breasts seen through the fine material of her blouse.
Her colour heightened and she squirmed when, after a hint of amusement had curved his lips, he allowed his eyes to wander again, and this time she felt she were being stripped naked.
Footsteps were heard, and voices. The foreigner gestured towards a door close by.
'In there,' he said shortly and gave her a shove which was anything but gentle. The long lean hand moved, too, from the middle of her back to curves much lower, and she felt their sickening warmth even after she was in the room and the door was closed upon her. There was a breeze entering the blackness and she realised that not only was a window open, but that she was standing right in its line. The wall by the side of this window offered support and she moved over to press her trembling body against it.
She heard the quiet rap on the oaken panel and the front door being opened. Voices drifted to her through the window where lace curtains were fluttering.
'… in the grounds, sir. We'd like to take a look around.' The voice was gruff but amiable.
'What is she wanted for?' The foreign voice now, sharp with interest.
'Only for questioning. She was acting suspiciously-bolted as fast as her legs would go when she saw the Panda car. Obviously been doing something she shouldn't have.'
Melanie cursed herself for her mistake. If only she had acted naturally she would not now be in this mess.
She heard the door close at last and within seconds the man was in the room.
'You were wise to keep away from the window. I didn't know it was open.' Walking over, he closed it and fixed the catch. 'You'd best come into the other room.' His voice was curt, without a trace of emotion. 'This way.' She followed him, nerves tingling, out into the lighted hall again and then into a charming room off it, a room with a log fire burning in the grate, its cosy glow showering the luxurious but comfortable sofa and chairs, the paintings on the walls, the massive oak beams and the wainscotting. Two muted wall lights were the only other illumination. She noted the heavy velvet drapes effectively shielding everything from any curious eyes that might be outside, drapes that reached from floor to ceiling.
'Well?' said the man briefly, without asking her to sit down. Melanie was again subjected to an all-examining perusal of her body.
'I didn't…' Her voice trailed. She had been about to say she hadn't done anything, but a shrewd glance at that face convinced her that she would never be believed, and in consequence would be handed over to the men outside. It took her a few seconds to decide what to say. 'I'm wanted for stealing,' she began. 'I-'
'Stealing?' sharply. 'What did you steal?'
'Money.' Melanie gulped and averted her eyes. She never had been able to lie and now she felt hot all over. 'Eight thousand pounds.'
Apart from an almost inaudible whistle there was no reaction to her words. She glanced up to find his face was a mask, but the eyes swung idly over her figure and came, as before, to rest on her breasts.
'Go on,' he said presently in peremptory tones. 'You had better not leave anything out,' he added as a final word of warning.
'I did it to save my parents-my adoptive parents,' she went on hurriedly. 'My father had embezzled money from his firm and would have gone to-to prison.' Her eyes were wide and appealing… and honest. The long dark lashes spread delectable shadows onto her pallid cheeks and her soft mouth trembled. She saw the man's eyes slowly narrow and take on a most baffling expression… but sensuality was there too, deep within those dark pools of basalt. She was scared, really frightened, but man-aged to gather herself with an effort. 'I stole the money from the firm where I worked.'
He said nothing for a long moment and then, tersely,
'You'll need to explain more fully before I make up my mind.'
There was an unfathomable inflection in the alien voice and for some reason Melanie was convinced that his mind was already made up: that he was not going to hand her over to the police.
The knowledge ought to have brought relief to her knotted nerves, but she was highly suspicious of the man's motives. She had heard no sound in this lonely house other than those which she and this man had made, and the voices of the policemen, of course. She recalled seeing only two lighted windows; one was the hall and the other this room which they were now in. Of course, some rooms at the back might be lighted but, somehow, she felt sure that there was no one in except this man and herself. The police were outside, searching the grounds; she could still give herself up.
'I asked you to explain.' The brusque voice cut her musings and she looked up at him.
'Can I sit down?' she asked, feeling her legs would not support her much longer.
'Of course.' He gestured languidly and she sank into the deep armchair indicated. He remained standing, tall and lithe without a dram of excess weight on his athletic body.
'Begin at the very beginning,' he ordered, and despite her doubts and misgivings Melanie did as she was told. The only vital part she omitted was that her sister was the real culprit. She saw no necessity for telling him that. For he might just decide to hand Melanie over to the police but to tell them they were chasing the wrong girl.
'So that is the whole story?' The eyes were narrowed and searching as they fixed hers.
'Yes, it's the whole story,' she lied. And hurriedly she went on, in case he should suspect anything, 'I had to do it, because my adoptive parents had done so much for me. I've explained to you just how much suffering would have resulted if I hadn't stolen the money and given it to my father.'
'So your mother never knew he had embezzled from his firm?'
'No; she was spared that.'
'And this sister-she can now marry her millionaire?'
'It's his father who's the millionaire,' she corrected. 'Yes, Katie can now get married.'
'So everyone's happy except you?' He spoke tersely and Melanie found herself trying to analyse the undertones.
'It'll be worth it,' was all she could find to say, and his straight black brows went up a fraction.
'Even if you are sent to prison?'
Her throat felt dry suddenly, constricted.
'I-you-are you intending to help me?' she managed in a tremulous tone.
'I haven't made up my mind.' He paused. 'This Hal you mentioned-would he have thrown your sister over for something her father had done?' Derisive the tone and the sensuous lips were curved in a sneer of contempt.
'His family are county people,' she submitted.
'I cannot see what bearing that particular circumstance has on the situation. However, it's of no importance. The important thing is what am I to do with you-?' He broke off and Melanie's eyes dilated.
'The police-they're back!' she gasped.
'Don't move from where you are!' He went to the door and opened it, passed through, and a moment later she heard him opening the front door in answer to the rat-a-tat of the knocker which a moment previously had brought Melanie's heart leaping into her mouth.
Would he give her up? Forbidding as he was, she realised with something of a shock that she preferred to be in his power rather than be arrested and probably sent to prison. Besides, there was the question of what she had done with the money. If she were questioned in the way the police were often accused of questioning their suspects, Melanie knew for sure she would break down, and once she had admitted the truth, her father would be arrested and the whole thing would have been for nothing.
'There's not a sign of her, sir. It's so dark, though, and these grounds are rather thickly wooded in places.'
'She's probably on a bus to Guildford by now.'
'Well, we'll see she's picked up and questioned. That red coat is a real giveaway!' The man with the gruff voice laughed.
'Good luck with your search. Sorry I wasn't able to help.'
'She might just come here once she sees us leave-if she's still in the grounds, that is. You'll give us a ring?'
'Of course.'
'This is the number.'
'Thank you. Good night.'
'Good night, sir. Lovely place you have here.'
The door closed. Melanie leant back in her chair and breathed deeply. Her eyes were closed when the man returned but she opened them to see him standing in the doorway, an odd expression on his face. She would have given anything to be able to read his thoughts, for she did wonder if he were planning something. In effect he was merely allowing his critical glance to examine her face even more fully than before. He noted the fine intellectual eyes, the small retroussé nose and the delicate lines and contours of her face. The wide generous mouth was finely-modelled, as was the chin, firm and yet entrancingly feminine. Pointed, it lent an elfin quality to a face that attracted him more than all the other women he had met and had affairs with in his life. Her figure was slender and well-proportioned, her legs shapely enough to hold his attention for long enough to make her blush.
For her part, Melanie was equally interested as, with at least a respite to look forward to, she let her attention focus on the man who was the most distinguished and yet the most formidable she had ever met. She took in with appreciation the finely-chiselled classical features which were reminiscent of statues of ancient Greek heroes she had seen in museums; she was not so sure she admired the widow's peak which sliced a deep V into the lined and almost hostile brow, nor even those eyes, so black and all-seeing, so unreadable and hard. His body had already made an impression on her: she thought it must be perfect-well over six feet in height-and she had already noticed, too, an active grace about his movements. The arrogance about his mouth seemed to be an inherent part of its sensuality, and the dominant line of the jaw gave evidence of a man used to giving orders and having them obeyed on the instant. He came into the room at last and she heard him say,
'If you were on the run what, on earth made you choose to wear a red coat?'
'That? It isn't mine.'
His brows shot up.
'Something else you-er-lifted, eh?' He wagged a warning finger at her and gave her no time to speak as he added, his eyes slowly narrowing, 'Don't indulge in any light-fingered exercises here, my girl, or you'll answer to me. This doesn't happen to be my house.'
She had gradually coloured up as he proceeded, but anger was rising too, so that there was a distinct gleam in her eyes as she said,
'The coat belongs to my sister. She thrust it at me when we saw the police coming. As for my wanting to steal anything here-I'd be crazy to do such a thing even if I were-light-fingered as you describe me!'
'Be very careful,' he recommended in a very quiet tone. 'It doesn't say that because I've sent those men away that I've made up my mind to help you. Your exit from here could be just as dramatic as your entrance. I might just decide to take you by the scruff of the neck and throw you out.' The voice was still quiet, the eyes now idly flickering over her. She watched him lift a slender brown hand to smother a yawn. He said casually, 'Have you eaten?'
She shook her head.
'No, I haven't.' She had no appetite but felt it to be irrelevant to say so.
'Then we shall eat together and discuss what must be done with you.' Again Melanie would dearly have liked to fathom the undertones. 'I'm afraid you will have to help me prepare something. I was intending to go out and find a restaurant, but obviously you mustn't venture out just now.' He went on to explain that some mistake had been made in dates as to his visit to the friends who owned this house. 'Seems to have been Hilary's fault-she's the wife of Stephen, and a featherbrain, but charming,' he thought to add. 'I had business in London and said I'd come on here when it was finished and spend three or four days with them if it was all right. Hilary wrote back to say yes, but on my arrival this morning I was met by the daily help who told me that her employers were away on holiday in Italy.' He stopped and shrugged and seemed annoyed with himself that he could not be more brief. 'I decided to stay for one night and return to Greece tomorrow.'
'The daily help has gone home?'
'Of course.'
'So…' Melanie passed her tongue over lips that had gone dry. 'We're here… alone?'
'Quite alone,' with a sort of dry humour. 'Are you afraid?'
She swallowed hard, then shook her head-somewhat weakly.
'No, no-I'm not afraid. Why should I be?'
He laughed.
'Looking at you, I'd say you are the kind of girl who would be afraid. However, you seem quite sure that you are not, so we'll leave it at that.'
She shot him a glance, sure he was plotting something.
'I could leave-I mean-'
'So you don't like the idea of being here alone with me?'
'I'm not wildly excited about it.' This was out before she knew just what she was saying. It behooved her not to say anything this man might take exception to, for she was sure he could be dangerous. She need not have worried, for he gave another light laugh.
'Well, unless you intend to risk going forth again you'll be staying here all night.'
She ignored that with the kind of naive philosophy of a child: leave it alone and it will go away!
She said interestedly,
'So you are Greek?'
He inclined his head.
'The name's Vidas Loudaros. And yours?'
'Melanie Grayshott.' She paused a moment and then, 'Your home is in Greece?'
'I live on the island of Thristos.' The abruptness of this sentence gave the sign that he would not accept further questioning. In any case, he spoke before Melanie had time to do so. 'If you want to tidy up after that chase you've just had, there's a cloakroom to the left of the front door. Bend down as you pass the window; those guys might have come back to prowl around again.'
'Yes.' She looked up and managed a wan smile. 'Thank you for not turning me over to them.'
A lean brown hand was raised even before she had finished.
'Don't thank me yet. You might come to wish I had turned you over to them.' He looked straightly at her. 'I rarely do anything for nothing… and never for complete strangers.'
Melanie had begun to move to the door after taking up her handbag in preparation to go to the cloakroom. The move had brought her close to the Greek and now she halted abruptly at his words. She felt ripples along her spine; the very air seemed to prickle. The silence was broken by the chimes of a clock in the hall; to Melanie it was like a jarring siren as one thought whirred in her head: this man was a rake and an opportunist. She knew it even before she heard him say, as the hard eyes looked down into hers,
'You know, I had resigned myself to a dull evening alone….' Mingling with the amusement in his voice was a trace of mocking satire as he continued slowly, as if to allow every word to sink in and be fully understood, 'But fate has sent me a very beautiful and desirable companion. We shall do very well together. Go and see to your face, then join me in the kitchen. You'll find it at the far end of the hall-' He gestured. 'This end.'
She could not move and for a space she could not speak either for her mouth and throat felt rough and dry. What had she landed herself in for? Why, she wondered bitterly, had she been drawn to this particular house, where an amorous Greek was alone… and, apparently, ready to take full advantage of what an obliging fate had thrown in his path?
'Something troubling you?' The smooth inquiry was accompanied by a glimmer of amusement in the basalt eyes. 'You appear to be undecided?'
She nodded slowly and mechanically, conscious of a wildly-beating heart and the terrified racing of her pulses.
She said through the roughness of her throat,
'I th-think I prefer to-to leave this house-if-if you don't mind?' Nervously she was gripping the handle of her bag, and she was aware of little beads of perspiration oozing from her temples. 'It is b-best that I g-give myself up.' Would he let her go? she wondered fearfully as she tried to see what was within the depths of those dark, immobile eyes.
'You prefer to leave?' His brows were raised a fraction. 'Prefer to spend the night in jail rather than here, in a comfortable bed?'
That he was deriving amusement at her expense was plain; if he thought to scare her further by the mention of the bed, he failed. She couldn't be more frightened than she already was.
'I want to leave!' A hint of hysteria echoed through the words as her voice tightened. 'Please let me leave this house-!'
'Don't panic,' he broke in with some asperity. 'If there's anything I detest it's an hysterical woman. Go and do what you have to do in there and then come to the kitchen. From what I saw when I opened the fridge a short while ago it appears to be well-stocked with all we shall need.' He swung a hand imperiously. 'Off you go, and get it into that head of yours that you could be behind bars at this very moment if it weren't for my generosity in shielding you.'
Shielding her! From the police, yes… but what about the mischief he now had in mind?
But she moved, albeit slowly, and with almost laboured motions, and as she came abreast of him his hand came forth and her wrist was taken in a firm but painless grasp. She gave a cry and tried to twist away. Her strength was puny and she was brought with a jerk against a chest as hard as granite. And before she quite knew it her head was tilted by an arrogant hand and she felt the hot pressure of his mouth possessing hers in a moist and sensual kiss that seemed to last for an eternity.
At length he held her from him, and the expression in his eyes sent her heart lurching right up into her throat.
'What a find….' His voice was faintly hoarse, his lips hard and demanding as they covered hers again. She felt his tongue and shuddered, then by force she was compelled to open her mouth and his tongue entered, sensuously caressing hers in the dark hollow where the skin was soft and pliable as gossamer silk. She ceased her struggles but fought for breath, squirming at the exploration of his hands, one of which had found her breast while the other was inside the waistband of her skirt, pressing her slender body hard against him to make her aware of his virility. Wild thoughts swirled about in her mind; she had read about girls finding themselves in situations of danger like this, but never had she expected anything so frightening to happen to her. Would he take what he wanted and then murder her? Perhaps he would bury her in the garden and no one would ever know what had happened to her. Katie… her parents… Hal, dear Hal… Cedric… people passing into her consciousness and out again and all the while this amorous Greek trying to bring her to the point of willing reciprocation. And in fact Melanie did begin to know a fierce longing in her loins and her brain began to reel. A fleeting release of her lips afforded her the opportunity to cry out, to threaten, to assume an attitude of fierce rebellion and disgust. A low laugh convinced her of the futility of her efforts, and she wept as his mouth closed over hers again, moistly exploring, ruthlessly crushing the tender softness of hers. Then he was seeking the hollow of her throat and the vulnerable places behind her ears. She fought the primordial instinct to arch her body, to put her arms about his neck, to reciprocate to his kisses… and to enjoy the finesse of experienced hands and fingers seeking and finding all the hypersensitive places which she herself was only now realising she possessed.
He held her away at last, fully at arm's length, and his eyes seemed to glow like freshly-fanned ashes that had long been smouldering.
'A meal first,' he said thickly, 'and then…
'No! Let me go!' She ran to the door and was pulled back by a tug of her hair. 'I don't want-'
'You will,' he assured her smoothly. 'Life is for living, girl! And you've just escaped a night in jail. I can guarantee you'll be far more comfortable… and happy, on a bed in this house than on a hard and narrow pallet in a cold, white-walled cell.' He gave her a shove with a hand on her backside. 'Go and tidy that hair, and do the rest. I like my women to look decorative when they face me at a table.'
