THE SKY WASthunderously grey but the rain at least stopped that afternoon, allowing them to leave the cabin. Genevieve’s shoes were still damp, but she pulled them on over a big pair of thick socks Nikos had given her. She could have been tempted to stay in bed with him all day, but at the same time the knowledge that her time here on the island was limited had her wanting to see more than just the inside of his cabin—as much as she would always remember every single detail of it.
One glance from the top of the cliff towards the ocean showed the waves coming in thick and fast, the ocean too swollen to make boat travel possible yet, regardless of the storm. She ignored the slight bubble of relief at that, and what it signalled.
So, she liked being here.
She liked—surprisingly—spending time with Nikos.
That didn’tmeananything.
It would take more than exceptional skills in bed and an interesting conversation or two to weaken the barriers Genevieve had erected around her heart and soul. Never again would she let another man permeate either. She was independent and alone. Even without James’s stipulation that she stay single, this was something she intended to do for herself.
There was no hint of her small sailing boat. It had been devoured by the ocean, and a shiver ran down her spine as she imagined herself having suffered the same fate. Had she not been able to make it to this island, she would have undoubtedly been lost at sea.
She ignored the ice-like feeling wrapping around her.
There was no sense thinking about hypotheticals. She’d made it here, and she’d made it to Nikos, which seemed strangely fated, now she thought about it. She dismissed the idea, though, quickly enough. She didn’t believe in anything like that. But when his hand reached down and curved around hers, pulling her away from the edge of the cliff face, back towards the cabin and the clearing around it, her whole body began to tingle in a way that definitely seemed other-worldly.
He was silent as they walked, yet a million questions flooded her mind. She realised that for all they’d spent the day alternating between making love and talking, it had been Genevieve who’d shared the most. Genevieve who’d all but bared her soul. Then again, was that really a surprise? She’d had no one to talk to about her failing marriage. No girlfriends she could confide in, and even a psychologist had been out of the question, because of James’s privacy concerns.
No, it was this man, this cabin, this island and the storm that conspired to create a perfect slice away from the rest of the world. Only that bubble enabled her to be so open with him.
It helped that he was so far removed from her normal world. They would have no acquaintances in common, having obviously moved in very different circles. She could speak to him without any concerns of it becoming public, and here, well away from humanity and society, there was no risk of their liaison being discovered. It was safe, safe in a way she hadn’t really understood she’d needed.
Seeing the cabin now, from the outside, without the fear of the storm bearing down upon her, meant she could regard it properly, taking in more details than she’d been capable of the night before. It was rustic in construction, but obviously very well built. Stones had been placed close together, mortared, to form the walls, and the roof was made of a sort of plaster and wood.
‘It’s soil and lime plaster,’ he said, when she asked. ‘Reinforced with sand.’
She nodded.
‘I wanted to be able to use it as a second floor. In the summer, I sleep up there, some nights.’
She turned to face him, and the image he created was so incredibly romantic and earthy, so animalistic and pure, that she felt a part of her soul chipping off and coming to rest right here, in this forest, atop a mountain on a Greek volcano. ‘Do you mean you built this?’ Her voice emerged squeaky, but she couldn’t help it. Surprise ran through her veins.
‘Builders are in short supply on the island,’ he quipped, but, despite having known him fewer than twenty-four hours, she had the sense he was obfuscating, intentionally concealing something from her.
‘Still, that must have been quite a challenge.’
‘That was what I needed, at the time.’
Why?The question died on her lips; she knew he wouldn’t answer. Not yet. She would ask it again, later, when his guard was more fully down. They walked, hand in hand, to the rear of the cabin, and Genevieve let out a small sound of surprise. Here was a vegetable garden as fully developed as any she’d seen. There were fruit trees too, some heavy with citrus.
‘This is better than tinned tuna,’ she pointed out.
His smile made her heart tremble. ‘A little.’
At the back of the house, there was also a large freezer. ‘Meat and fish,’ he explained. ‘Some cheeses that freeze well.’
‘You’re hardly roughing it, then.’
He laughed.
‘Though it’s not what I’d call luxurious, either.’
‘It’s fine for me.’
She nodded, but there was something in his statement that didn’t make sense. What kind of humble mountain man had a helicopter casually parked out the back? She glanced through the forest and saw the flash of metal, and knew that was where he had it stored.
‘Thinking of escape?’ he asked, squeezing her hand.
