Mediterranean Seduction. Кэрол Мортимер

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