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about her that they had not taken in. His forehead was lined and low,
his black brows very slightly curved, as they were in classical Greek
sculpture; his cheekbones were high and prominent beneath a taut and
rich mahogany- coloured skin. The thick black hair waved attractively
and even as Alaine watched a slender brown hand slipped through it,
removing a lock that had strayed on to the lowering brow.
'I'm afraid I wasn't looking where I was going. I hope I haven't hurt
you?'
'Of course you haven't.' Alaine smiled up at him, remembering the
impact he had made upon her only an hour or so ago. 'There's really no
need to apologize; it was a pure accident.' She tried not to feel shy, but
she knew her colour had risen, and that she wasn't being at all poised
and assured as, for instance, Estelle would have been in such an
encounter. The man stared down into her face and she became puzzled
by his expression. He seemed surprised and a little nonplussed, she
thought, but it was only a fleeting impression, because he was now
saying,
'You're very kind.' A pause, during which his charming smile had the
effect of increasing her heartbeats to an almost uncomfortable thud.
'Were you going in to tea?' the man inquired politely, and she nodded
in a dazed sort of way.
'Yes,' she replied breathlessly. 'Yes, I w-was.'
'Then perhaps we might go together? You're alone?'
She nodded again and said yes, she was alone, but even as he spoke
she had the strange conviction that he knew very well she was alone.
On entering the lounge, where soft bouzouki music drifted from a
small dais on which were seated four musicians, the man guided her,
with an almost imperceptible touch of his hand on her back, to a table
over in a secluded alcove and pulled out a chair for her. Alaine had not
looked round on entering the lounge, for although she had made no
promises she knew Hal would be expecting her to join him for tea. Jim
and Donna did not take tea, preferring to remain out on deck in the
sunshine.
Tea and cakes were brought on a tray and Alaine picked up the teapot,
feeling very much overwhelmed by this tall Greek who was leaning
back in his chair and regarding her through half closed eyes. He
seemed puzzled, she thought, although she could find no reason for
this impression. She also felt that his rather languid pose was assumed
and that he was in fact on the alert. She handed him his tea and he
thanked her before saying, rather slowly, his gaze fixed intently on her
face,
.'My name's Duris ..A small hesitation, as if he would ascertain
whether or not there would be some reaction on her part. But she
merely smiled and waited and had hen seemed to draw a deep breath
before telling her that his first name was Cimon. 'What's yours?' He
smiled, but she had the impression that something other than humour
lay behind that smile.
Forgetful, she almost made a slip and her lips had actually formed the
name Alaine when she checked and said,
'Estelle Marsland.' As soon as the name left her lips she felt a sudden
regret that lying was necessary. Somehow, she did not like the idea of
lying to this man; also, she wanted to be herself at this moment - not
Estelle, but Alaine. However, an untruth was absolutely necessary
because of the passenger list. Many people stopped to scan it; she
herself had done so and probably Cimon had too - or would before the
voyage was over.
'Estelle Marsland.,.' He seemed to be repeating the name over to
himself, while he continued to subject Alaine to that intense regard,
this time from over the rim of his teacup, and after a silent moment an
enigmatic smile came to his lips and hovered there. He was remote, a
long long way from her, she thought... and yet his eyes were still fixed
on her face. She lowered her lashes, faintly perturbed by this
concentrated interest. 'How do you come to be cruising alone?' he
inquired at length.
She shrugged with assumed carelessness.
'I like travelling alone.'
'You do it often?'
'This is the first time,' she answered, giving him a frank look, and only
then did she realize her inconsistency.
'But you just said you liked travelling alone.' Soft tones, yet containing
some obscure element that brought a prickling sensation to the base of
Alaine's skull. An uneasy silence followed his words, which were half
question, half statement.
'There was no one to come with me,' she said lamely at last, and to her
puzzlement and surprise his fine lips curved in a manner that could
only be described as one of contempt. He said, still in the same soft
tones,
'I suppose you knew you wouldn't be alone for long?'
She frowned at him, her face fusing with colour.
'I'm afraid I don't understand you.' Although she injected a coolness
into her voice she knew a sudden loss of spirit at the trend of
conversation. Cimon seemed cynical, and faintly patronizing. His
black eyes held a light she did not particularly care for, although she
could not have explained what it was she saw there. She glanced away,
and picked up a scone. Cimon appeared to notice her dejection and, to
her intense relief, seemed anxious to undo any damage he had done,
for when he spoke again it was with the charm of manner exhibited
when, having knocked against her, he graciously apologized.
'You're so very beautiful that it is quite impossible for you to be alone
for long. Surely you're aware of this?' His voice flattered even by its
softness; his eyes glimmered with unconcealed admiration, and the
smile on his lips was so obviously friendly that Alaine found herself
responding with her own ready smile.
'I expect you talk like this to all the women,' she said with assumed
flippancy after searching for something more original to say to him.
He laughed, revealing two rows of even white teeth, strong and
gleaming.
'I expect I have made similar remarks on various occasions,' he
admitted, leaning forward in his chair to help himself to a pastry. 'But
I'm quite sincere when I say that my remarks have never been passed
to a more beautiful girl than you.' His black eyes laughed a little
because of her blushes and the rather tremulous movement of her lips.
He seemed to understand her slight nervousness and lack of
confidence, and she wondered if he were used to women behaving like
this on first becoming acquainted with him. There was about him so
superior an air, a certain inherent savoir vivre, that unless a woman
were herself endowed with a high degree of confidence she must
surely find herself floundering a little, for he really was rather
overpowering. Alaine fumbled with her pastry fork and, noting his
change of countenance, she had the impression that in addition to the
humour displayed by the gleam in his eyes and the curve of his lips he
was possessed of some secret from which he derived a great measure
of amusement. 'I expect you'll be dancing this evening?' he said as if
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