Free The Power of the Legendary Greek by Catherine George Page A

kiss.’
    Isobel shook her head vehemently, pushing him away in such frenzied rejection Luke got up, grim-faced, and laid her down against the pillows on the bed.
    ‘Do not look at me like that,’ he said harshly, staring down into her ashen face. ‘I am not a rapist.’
    ‘Maybe not.’ She hugged her arms across her chest, unable to meet his eyes. ‘But neither am I applying for the post of pillow friend.’
    Luke stood utterly still for a moment. ‘A word of advice, Isobel,’ he said after a pause. ‘Wait until asked to apply for such a post before you refuse.’
    She burrowed into the pillows, burning with mortification as he strode through the open doors. Thank God he was leaving tomorrow. Before he came back—if he did come back while she was here—she would be at the cottage. With a gasp, she shot upright again as he reappeared from the terrace with her crutch.
    ‘I will send Eleni with tea,’ he said curtly.
    ‘No! Please tell her I don’t need anything tonight.’
    ‘As you wish.’ Luke gave her a formal nod. ‘I leave early in the morning. I shall say goodbye now.’
    ‘Goodbye.’ Isobel pulled herself together. ‘Thank you again for all your help.’
    He shrugged negligently as he made for the door. ‘It was nothing.’
    Isobel slumped against the pillows, fighting the urge to cry her eyes out. But if she gave in to tears the headache would come back and, threat of blood clots or not, tomorrow she was determined to leave the Villa Medusa. She looked at her watch and groaned. It was still quite early and she was no longer tired. Quite the reverse. The brief episode had sent her into such a spin she would take some calming down if she was to get to sleep any time before morning.
    Later, propped up against pillows ready for the night, Isobel felt better, grateful to her head for letting her read. Atleast she wouldn’t have to lie awake all night, mulling over the mortifying episode with Luke. But she couldn’t explain why she’d shied off like a frightened virgin. Although he’d surprised her with details about his background, her own experience was too new and raw to talk about to a man who was virtually a stranger. So if Luke had harboured any idea about a holiday fling it was better to nip it in the bud right now. She sighed heavily. The physical contact of carrying her about so much had been to blame, creating intimacy from the word go.
    Isobel steeled herself to concentrate on her book. Then looked up in surprise as someone knocked on her door.
    ‘Come in,’ she called, expecting Eleni, her body instantly rigid as Luke came in and closed the door behind him.
    ‘I saw your light.’ He approached the bed, something in his eyes pressing her panic button again. ‘I knew you were awake, Isobel. I brought your phone.’
    ‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’d forgotten all about it. I was reading.’
    ‘The phone was just an excuse.’ He sat on the edge of the bed, frowning as she backed away. ‘Isobel, did you really believe that I would force you? You are a guest in my house, and still recovering from an accident. Do you think I am such a monster?’
    ‘No. I don’t.’ Her eyes fell.
    ‘Thank the gods for that,’ he said dryly. ‘Then why such panic?’
    She drew in a deep, unsteady breath. ‘Bad experience lately.’
    ‘A lover who refused to take no for an answer?’
    ‘Something like that.’
    Luke’s eyes darkened. ‘He hurt you?’
    She nodded.
    ‘Can you talk about it?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Perhaps it would be good for you if you did.’ He put a finger under her chin to turn her face up. ‘Tell me, Isobel.’
    She stared at him in indecision, then sighed wearily. Why not? It was supposed to be easier to confide in a stranger. ‘I have this problem,’ she began very quietly. ‘Due to my lack of relatives, I tend to look for friendship and caring rather than heat and, well, sex, when it comes to relationships. A few months ago I met an artist whose work we put on