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      ‘Yet you’ve hardly changed at all.’ Eleanor spoke with such obvious sincerity the beautiful eyes warmed.

      ‘How kind of you to say so. You are here to write about the festival?’

      Eleanor nodded, hoping she didn’t look guilty. Bad move to reveal that an interview with Alexei Drakos was her main objective.

      ‘I have not been here for the festival for a while,’ Talia told her. ‘But Alex always leaves his calendar clear for it, so I came on impulse to surprise him.’

      ‘He must have been delighted!’

      ‘Fortunately, he seemed to be. Not every man welcomes a surprise visit from his mother.’ Talia smiled up at the youth setting down glasses, bottles of mineral water and fruit juice. ‘Efcharisto, Yannis.’ She eyed Eleanor with gratifying interest. ‘So, tell me about your assignment.’

      Eleanor described the lesser-known islands she’d visited for her series. ‘I take my own photographs, so I nearly always travel solo.’

      ‘But you must have someone in the UK waiting impatiently for your return?’ The blue eyes sparkled, unashamedly curious.

      Eleanor shook her head, smiling. ‘The only one waiting impatiently right now is my editor. But I’m lucky enough to have good friends, and I’m close to my parents.’

      ‘I am most fortunate myself that way. My son may be a busy man, but he makes time for regular—if brief—visits to his mother. Do you live at home with your parents?’

      Before Eleanor could reply, Alexei Drakos joined them.

      Talia smiled at him warmly. ‘Sit with us for a while.’

      He shook his head. ‘Stefan tells me I have calls to return. Miss Markham, has your bracelet been returned to you?’

      ‘No, not yet.’

      ‘I’ll hurry the man along.’ With an abstracted smile, he strode off again.

      His mother looked after him anxiously. ‘The world does not leave him alone, even here at his retreat—though Stefan, his assistant, does his best to keep it at bay over this particular holiday.’

      ‘This festival is obviously important to—to your son,’ said Eleanor.

      ‘To me, also,’ said Talia, and looked up with an enquiring smile as a boy approached the table, holding out a package.

      ‘Ah, that must be for me,’ said Eleanor, and took out her bracelet, now adorned with the crystal bull. ‘Efcharisto!’ she said, pleased, and handed over a tip. She smiled guiltily as she displayed the charm. ‘Very expensive, but I couldn’t resist it after your son was kind enough to bargain the price down.’

      Talia leaned closer to examine it. ‘Exquisite—and a most perfect souvenir of Kyrkiros.’

      Eleanor fastened the bracelet on her wrist. ‘There. No more extravagance for me this trip.’

      Alexei Drakos’ assistant came towards them, smiling respectfully. ‘Forgive me for interrupting, but Sofia says a light supper is ready, kyria Talia. She apologises it is early tonight because of the taurokathapsia.’

      ‘Of course,’ she said, getting up. ‘Miss Eleanor Markham, meet Stefan Petrides, Alexei’s man in Athens.’

      Stefan bowed formally to Eleanor. ‘Chairo poly, kyria Markham.’

      ‘Pos eiste,’ she returned.

      ‘I am not happy leaving you alone here, my dear,’ said Talia, frowning. ‘Please join us for dinner.’

      Eleanor smiled gratefully, but shook her head. ‘That’s so kind of you, but I purposely ate enough lunch to see me through the evening. Goodbye—it’s been such a pleasure to meet you.’

      ‘Likewise, Eleanor Markham, though the day is not over yet,’ said Talia, and with a smile went off with her escort.

      Eleanor gazed after them a little wistfully, then sat down and began writing up the events of the afternoon. She was soon so deeply absorbed she jumped when someone rapped on the metal table. She looked up with a smile to find Alexei Drakos eyeing her notebook with hostility.

      ‘My mother is concerned about leaving you alone here,’ he said coldly. ‘But you’re obviously busy. She tells me you’re a journalist.’

      Her smile died. ‘Yes, I am.’

      ‘And my island is providing an even richer source of material than you expected?’

      Eleanor’s defences sprang to attention. ‘It is indeed.’

      ‘Write one word about my mother, and I will sue,’ he said with menace.

      Eleanor’s chin went up. ‘I’m here solely to report on this famous festival of yours, Mr Drakos. But, since you ask so nicely, I’ll leave out my chance meeting with Talia Kazan. Though, since I would be reporting fact, suing would not be possible.’

      ‘Maybe not.’ His cold eyes locked on hers. ‘But believe me, Miss Markham—whatever rag you work for I can get you fired as easily as I helped you out earlier.’

      He strode off, cursing at the chance that had involved his mother with Eleanor Markham. Since the notoriety Christina Mavros had brought on him, he had avoided contact with any woman other than his mother. Until today, that was, when an attractive tourist’s rueful little smile had seduced him into offering help to someone who was not only a woman but a reporter, for God’s sake!

      Eleanor stared after him balefully. No chance of an interview with Talia Kazan’s baby boy, then. And no prize for guessing how Alexei Drakos had made his fortune, either. He’d probably just stepped on the necks of everyone who got in his way. Her mouth tightened. Romantic fool that she was, the chance meeting with him had been one of the major experiences of her life, whereas to him she was just a petty little problem to solve by threats.

      Her eyes sparking like an angry cat’s behind her glasses, she noted that all the reserved tables were now full, other than the one adjoining hers. Everyone was eating and drinking and having a wonderful time in laughing, animated groups, which emphasized her solitary state—a common enough situation on her travels, and not one that had bothered her in the slightest up to now. Eleanor shrugged impatiently. Her blood sugars obviously needed a boost after the clash with the dragon of Kyrkiros. She walked over to the stalls, bought a couple of nut-filled honey pastries from one of them, and returned to her table to find a teenaged lad waiting there.

      ‘Kyria Talia sent for you,’ he informed her, indicating the tray on the table.

      Eleanor smiled warmly and asked him to convey her thanks to the lady. She sat down to pour tea into a delicate china cup and smiled when she tasted an unmistakeably British blend. The pastries were doubly delicious with the tea as accompaniment. By the time Eleanor had finished her surprise treat, lamps were glowing along the terrace, the sudden darkness of the Aegean night had fallen, a singer had joined the musicians and she had almost recovered from the blow of her encounter with Alexei Drakos. She stiffened when an audible ripple of interest through the СКАЧАТЬ