PAGAN ADVERSARY by Sara Craven, Chieko Hara Read Free Book Online

bound when she heard his
    voice, and then she was aware of something else—background noises
    which were quite unmistakably Nicky screaming with temper.
    She asked in swift alarm, 'Is he ill?'
    'His health is perfect,' Alex Marcos said grimly. 'I wish I could say the
    same for his disposition. He seems to have been thoroughly spoilt.
    Last night, Yannina managed to get him to sleep with difficulty. This
    evening it has been quite impossible. Everything she has tried with
    him has failed". He merely screams all the louder and cries for you.'
    'He's not at all spoilt,' Harriet said indignantly. 'I really don't know
    what else you expected. He's far too young to take such a complete
    change in his environment in his stride. He's in a strange room with
    strange faces round him, and he's frightened.'
    'You have missed your vocation, Miss Masters. You should clearly
    have been a child psychologist,' he drawled. 'Did it occur to you to
    warn Yannina that he might react in this way?'
    Harriet sighed. 'I honestly didn't know. He—he went with her
    willingly enough. And I tried to explain that it was a little holiday....'
    He said tightly, 'Very well, Miss Masters, you are absolved. He is, as
    you say, a very young child, and he is deeply distressed. If I send my
    car for you, will you come to him?'
    Harriet swallowed. 'Of course.'
    She heard his phone go down, and replaced her own receiver.
    She went upstairs to the flat and stood looking round rather
    helplessly, wondering what she should do. She didn't know whether
    or not she should pack a bag with some overnight essentials. Nothing
    had been said about her staying the night with Nicky, and perhaps she
    would just be expected to get him calm and off to sleep before she
    was chauffeured back here again.
    In the end, she compromised by tucking some clean undies and her
    toothbrush into the bottom of her biggest shoulder bag.
    The car was at the door almost before it seemed possible. She would
    have preferred to sit in the front with the driver, but she was gravely
    ushered into the back, and even offered a rug to put round her, which
    she declined.
    It had all happened so fast that she hadn't time to be nervous or
    consider the implications of what she was doing, or not until now.
    Sitting alone in the car's unaccustomed luxury, she tried to compose
    her thoughts and emotions, reminding herself over and over again
    that she was only seeing Alex Marcos again because Nicky needed
    her, and that her concern must be for him.
    She even began to wonder whether Alex might be having second
    thoughts about taking Nicky to Greece, with the prospect of nightly
    scenes to contend with.
    The suite Alex occupied was on the second floor of the hotel, and as
    soon as Harriet left the lift, she could hear Nicky roaring.
    The chauffeur led her along the corridor and knocked deferentially.
    Alex opened the door himself. He was casually dressed in
    close-fitting dark slacks and a loose sweatshirt, and in spite of his
    ill-temper, he looked more attractive than ever, Harriet thought, her
    stomach tying itself in knots.
    She said insanely, 'We should have called him Macbeth!'
    He stared at her. 'What in the name of God are you talking? about?'
    'It's the play,' she said quickly. 'By Shakespeare. Macbeth murdered
    sleep in it, when he murdered Duncan.'
    His mouth twisted. 'I imagine my unfortunate neighbours in the
    adjoining suites may well be contemplating the same solution. There
    have already been discreet enquiries from the management, you
    understand.' He shook her head. 'I never knew a child's lungs could
    have such power!'
    There was a cot in Nicky's room and he was standing up in it,
    gripping the bars with small desperate fists, his face swollen and
    blubbered with weeping. Yannina sat on a chair facing him, her
    motherly face contorted with a kind of despair as she talked to him in
    a swift monotone. A congealing cup of milk on a side table, and
    various untouched fruit drinks, bore mute