square, if that; a wooden jetty stuck out like a black finger into the bay, and there were a few houses, hardly enough to call a village, and a winding white road that meandered in ever decreasing loops to the top of the hill above the bay.
'Beautiful,' she murmured appreciatively, then gasped as the helicopter circled a magnificent, long, low white villa overlooking the sea and surrounded on three sides by a high wall. In the enclosure she had a fleeting impression of gardens and terraces a riot of colour, saw the sun glinting off an oval swimming-pool, and then they were landing on the concrete pad at the rear of the house.
'I like to think so,' Alex responded to her comment, his smile one of sardonic amusement as, helping her to the ground, he added, 'And it is very private; the only way in or out is by helicopter or boat. Everything we need I have flown in. The relatives stay every year for a month or so, but most of the time we will be alone.'
'How long are we staying?' Saffron asked nervously, her agile mind very quickly digesting the fact that the island would not be easy to escape from.
'As long as it takes,' Alex murmured enigmatically, then strode towards the small dark woman rushing to meet him from the rear of the house.
As long as what takes? Saffron thought, trudging along behind him, the heat of the midday sun hitting her ike a blowtorch. She was not in the least surprised that Alex no longer felt it necessary to lead her around by the arm; the arrogant oaf knew very well there was nowhere she could run to.
She stopped and watched him greet the elderly lady with a bear hug, and then shake hands with a surprisingly wizened old man whose currant-black eyes looked past Alex to where Saffron stood. His face split in an ear-to-ear grin then he said something in Greek that made Alex fling his head back and burst out laughing.
For a second Saffron was stunned by the sight of Alex, tall and casually dressed in cream trousers and a soft blue shirt, his darkly attractive face lit with laughter, the sun glinting off his night-black hair. He looked so handsome and carefree, and she felt her heart squeeze with longing for what might have been.
Introductions were over in a trice. The housekeeper and her husband, Despina and Georges were all smiles as they led the way into the welcoming coolness of the house.
'What did Georges say to make you laugh?' she asked as Alex ushered her into the main living-room with a hand on her back.
'Male joke; I doubt you would appreciate it.' And to her amazement he leaned towards her and kissed her slightly parted lips with a thoroughness that made her go weak at the knees. 'Come on, I'll show you around my home.'
'And my prison,' she shot back, more angry with herself because of her helpless reaction to his kiss than with him.
'It will be a prison of your own making, if you insist on being childish,' he said drily.
The house was lovely; Saffron could not pretend otherwise. The living-room and dining-room, family- room, study and kitchen all opened on to the garden and the sea but were connected by a long, wide, curving hall at the end of which an elegant marble staircase led to the upper floor.
'The hall was designed to be used as a reception area when I hold parties, or there are a lot of guests. It allows the rest of the family-rooms to be a more manageable size—'Alex informed her. 'More cosy.'
'You're hardly the cosy type,' Saffron snapped back.
He reached out and took hold of her chin, lifting it so that she had no option but to look at him. 'You will find out just what type I can be, if I have to put up with any more of your backchat, and I can promise you you will not like it.'
Her gaze was trapped by his, and she fought back the angry retort that hovered on her lips. His only visible sign of anger was the darkening glitter in his deep brown eyes, but she sensed the tension, the leashed strength, in iris large body, and fear made her swallow her words.
"That's better, Saffron. You're learning,' he mocked, aware of her battle for control. Pulling her into his arms, he continued, 'Neither of us has got exactly what we expected from this union, but there's no reason why we can't behave like civilised adults.'
His knowing smile held no humour, and sent shivers of apprehension down her spine. 'No.' She drew a deep breath; held in his embrace she was much too vulnerable. The musky male scent of him, the warmth of his body undermined her self-control.
His eyes narrowed faintly as they travelled over her flushed, mutinous face. 'You are my wife and I am master in my own home. You will do as I say, and show respect to the staff, and that way we will get along just fine. Agreed?'
His grip tightened around ber waist, his head bent and deliberately his breath feathered her cheek. 'Agreed?' he repeated hardly.
'Yes, yes,' she answered quickly, seconds before he kissed ha thoroughly, declaring her his possession.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Subdued, Saffron followed Alex upstairs and into the master bedroom. She gazed around, her eyes widening in awe at the splendour before her. A huge bed on a raised dais dominated the room, the coverlet a work of art in white handmade lace, the headboard a swan with wings unfurled and incorporating side-tables, lights and what looked like a computer console. The floor was finely polished marble in a stunning white streaked with pink.
A door was standing half-open to one side and she had a brief glimpse of an equally extravagant bathroom. On the other side was another door which she imagined must lead to a dressing-room as there were no wardrobes in the bedroom, only an exquisite dressing-table, a casual arrangement of two long satin-covered sofas and an oval crystal and gold low table—minimal furniture but effective.
She turned and walked towards the large expanse of glass at the far end of the room and the balcony beckoning beyond. She slid open the door and stepped out; the heat hit her once again but she barely noticed as her green eyes filled with wonder at the view before her.
The gardens stretched out, gently sloping for about two hundred yards, and then fell away in a riot of colour, terrace upon terrace, to end on a beach of silver sand, washed by an azure sea. To the left she could just see the end of the jetty and the roofs of a few houses; to the right was simply more sand and sea, and then a sharp black cliff-face.
'It looks absolutely beautiful, and so quiet, so peaceful,' she murmured, almost to herself.
Alex had come up behind her and his arms slid around ta waist, drawing her back against him, one hand holding her firm while his other slid up to cover her breast through the soft silk of the blouse she had teamed with matching cream silk trousers for travelling.