Innocent Obsession by Anne Mather

Author:Anne Mather [Mather, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781488704802
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises, Australia Pty Ltd
Published: 2014-05-20T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

IT was an awful day. Sylvie divided her time between her room and the beach, unable to deny Nikos her company, but unwilling to lay herself open to further taunts from his uncle. Meals she managed to avoid, saying she wasn’t hungry at lunchtime, and making the excuse that she had letters to write to eat dinner alone in her room. It was the first time she had done so since their arrival, but she hoped Leon’s pleasure in his brother’s company would compensate for her absence. After all, it could be argued that they might have things to say to one another that her presence would inhibit, and Thia Ariadne was much more a member of the family than she ever would be.

Yet it was Ariadne Petronides who eventually came looking for her, her gnarled fingers beating-a tattoo on Sylvie’s door as she sat by the french windows opening on to her balcony, watching the lights of a fishing boat anchored out in the bay. Unaware of the identity of her unexpected visitor, Sylvie opened the door tentatively, then stood back in relief when she saw who it was.

‘Thia Ariadne!’ she exclaimed. She had taken to using Leon and Nikos’s name for her. ‘What a surprise! Won’t you come in?’

‘I am not disturbing you?’ Thia Ariadne’s English was thick and heavily accented, but excellent for all that. ‘Ah, I can see you have eaten little of your dinner. That was my anxiety.’ Her dark eyes surveyed the girl intently. ‘Etsi, you are not feeling well, hmm?’

‘I’m feeling fine, honestly.’ Sylvie wrung her hands together behind her back as the old lady advanced into the room, closing the door behind her. ‘I—er—I’ve been writing to my mother, that’s all. And I wasn’t particularly hungry.’

‘As you were not hungry at lunchtime,’ remarked Thia Ariadne, dryly. ‘And yet until today you have had a very good appetite, ohi?’

‘Perhaps it’s the heat.’ Sylvie forced a smile, pushing back her hair with a nervous hand, but the old lady was not deceived.

‘Perhaps,’ she agreed, giving her a moment’s respite, and then added shrewdly: ‘Or perhaps it is Andreas, hmm? I heard you arguing on the terrace this morning. What has he been saying to you? How has he upset you?’

Sylvie’s lips parted helplessly. Was she always to be the one who was disconcerted? she thought fretfully. Why hadn’t she considered Ariadne’s normal practice of sitting, sewing, on her balcony, when she started raising her voice?

‘I’m sorry,’ she said now. ‘Sorry if I disturbed you, I mean—–’

‘Oh, nonsense, child, you did not disturb me,’ exclaimed Leon’s aunt impatiently, seating herself in the chair Sylvie had previously occupied, and looking up at the girl with sharp, penetrating eyes. Although she must easily be seventy, her mind was as alert as it had ever been, and only her bony hands, plucking at the fichu about her shoulders, betrayed any trace of age or infirmity. ‘But I know Andreas,’ she continued firmly, bowing her head, ‘and I

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