His gaze feasted upon her.

I could kiss her now, as she floats on the water, eyes closed, lips parted...

Almost he succumbed to the temptation welling up in him. But wiser counsel prevailed. They were out of their depth at this distance, and any kind of kiss would soon find them both under the surface and flailing for air. No, there would be time enough for kisses. Kisses and so much more...

‘You look like a basking mermaid,’ he said instead, a smile in his voice.

She did not open her eyes. ‘I feel like one,’ she answered. ‘This is absolute bliss.’

He turned on his back and floated wide himself. ‘It is,’ he confirmed.

He went on floating beside her peacefully for a while, bobbing in the gentle swell, keeping his eyes shut against the bright sunshine. He was conscious that they were drifting further out to sea. He said as much to Rosalie, turning himself over to check their distance from the shore. She did likewise.

‘But the Mediterranean is tideless, isn’t it?’ she asked.

‘There’s a slight tide—and definitely currents—but nothing like what you’re used to in Britain,’ he answered, and they both started to make their way with a slow breaststroke back towards the beach.

‘I’m not used to the seaside anywhere,’ she replied. ‘I’ve never been till now.’

Xandros’s expression changed. ‘You’ve never been to the seaside?’ His voice was disbelieving.

‘Not even Southend!’ she exclaimed, half-humorously, half-sadly. ‘That’s the closest seaside for East Enders, but Mum was never well enough to go. Never well enough for anything, really—not that there was any money for holidays anyway,’ she finished.

Now he could hear more sadness in her voice than humour. Pity for her filled him, and resolve, too—to do whatever he could to compensate her for the deprivations of her impoverished life. Even in the darkest days of his childhood, when money worries for his parents had been at their height, he had enjoyed an affluence way beyond Rosalie’s.

Well, now she would enjoy not only mere affluence, but luxury—all that he could provide for her. Every luxury—and every pleasure.

He felt his brow furrowing as he swam. It was new to him to entertain such an impulse. All the women he’d been involved with had come from his own world, used to luxury and expensive living—Ariadne included. And for none of them—not even Ariadne—had he felt this overwhelming desire to provide for them. Make them happy.

His eyes went to her now as she swam beside him, her gaze focussed on the approaching beach.

I want to make her happy! That’s exactly what I want to do!

It was a strange feeling. A novel feeling. A good feeling.

And it was a feeling he went on feeling, bringing to him an inner warm glow as they waded ashore.

‘If you’ve any energy left, let’s go for a walk. I’ll show you something of the island. Nothing too strenuous, I promise.’

Nor was it.

Showered and dressed again, he led the way up a narrow path through the thickly growing oleander bushes on the far side of the beach.

As they reached the clifftop, and the vista of the rugged coastline and the wild, maquis-covered terrain opened up before them, Rosalie gave a smile of pleasure at his side.

‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’ she said enthusiastically.

Xandros looked at her, smiling himself. She was wearing sunglasses, and her hair was caught back with a barrette. But it was being winnowed by the wind spilling off the clifftop. She pushed it back with her hand, taking in the view. Her beauty was natural, unforced. He wanted to do nothing but gaze at her and drink it in.

Then, abruptly, she started. A goat, followed by several more, leapt from behind some low bushes, disturbed by their presence, bounding away inland.

‘They’re supposed to be feral,’ Xandros told her, ‘But Maria feeds them if she thinks they look hungry. In exchange, she milks them and makes cheese. I expect we’ll sample some tonight at dinner. Speaking of which,’ he went on, ‘we’d better head back. We’ll come up another day—bring a picnic lunch with us. It’s a great spot for watching the sunset, too—though tonight it’s going to be the Champagne Sunset Show, down on the beach.’

She smiled. ‘Sounds good,’ she answered.

‘And we must brace ourselves,’ he said, humour in his voice, ‘for Maria will have excelled herself with dinner. She’s been cooking all day, Panos told me.’

A wedding feast. A wedding feast to fill them both up. Give them energy for the night ahead.

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