Follow a Stranger

down with a grimace at her clothes. They were dry, but

needed ironing, and the salt had stiffened them so that

they crackled slightly as she moved. A pale sheen

covered them, a salt bloom which flaked away as she

brushed at it with her hands. It was lucky she had been

wearing practical denim, she thought.

She found Marc outside, walking to and fro with his

hands in his pockets. He, too, wore his own clothes

again. His white towelling shirt and blue jeans were as

crumpled as hers, but she felt a quick tug of the heart at

the sight of him. It was strange how quickly she had

grown accustomed to being with him. There was a

dangerous sweetness about being here, alone, with

Marc.

“Giorgiou came back two hours ago,” he said. “He

woke me and I sent him to fetch Jake. He only has an

old donkey which wouldn’t carry two of us, and it is too

far to walk.”

“I’ll tidy his house for him,” she said.

“There’s no need,” Marc said brusquely. “I will

compensate him for everything.”

She felt herself going hot. “Money isn’t the answer to

everything, you know!” she snapped. That unconsidered

remark of his somehow brought all her old resentment

rushing back. Last night, in their shared danger and

discomfort, she had forgotten how wide the gulf between

them was, but she remembered now.

Marc gave her a long, hard stare. “Giorgiou will be

quite satisfied,” he said harshly. “Do you think he would

like you to act as an unpaid servant in his house,