Love at Sea Read online

  It was Alexandros who stood outside. Relief made her greeting more cordial than it might have been otherwise. She had been afraid it was Nikolaos seeking her out, coming to discover why she had not appeared at the breakfast table this morning.

  “Good morning, Maura,” the officer said, his smile not quite so engaging as usual. “Could I speak to you?"

  It did not seem wise to invite him inside. “Certainly. I was just going up to the pool. Let me get my things, and I'll be right with you."

  They moved down the corridor of the lower deck, passing the beauty salon where through the open door they could see the hairdressers at work in the sleekly modern interior.

  Maura glanced at Alexandros. Her nerves tightened as she saw his troubled expression. “It looks as though we are going to have another gorgeous day."

  Her attempt at a light tone went unnoticed. “Yes."

  “Will we reach Grand Cayman on schedule?"

  He nodded. “That is no problem. The passengers will go ashore at one o'clock, as usual."

  “We have made up the time we lost during the first night then?"

  “Yes."

  There seemed no help for it. She was going to have to hear him out. “What was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

  The passageway they were treading was empty for the moment. He stopped, turning to face her. “It is this. I thought you liked me, Maura. We had a good time at Cozumel, did we not? You smiled only for me yesterday. Then last night after two dances, you left me. You did not ask again. The last dance of the night you gave to Kyrios Vassos, that is, to Mr. Vassos. What is wrong?"

  “I do like you, Alexandros,” she said with care, “but I have known you only a short time."

  “Have you known Nikolaos Vassos longer?"

  “No, not really,” she was forced to admit.

  “Then what is he to you, that you are always with him?"

  “His grandmother has been a friend to me, since I am alone on this ship."

  “It was not his grandmother you asked to dance with you last night!"

  “No,” she answered, unable to prevent her rising irritation with his aggrieved tone. “But Alexandros, you have no right to question me. I have promised you nothing. We have spent a little time together, and as you say, we have had fun; still, that's all. There is nothing more between us."

  In her need to make him understand, she had reached out to place her fingers on his arm. Immediately, he covered them with his hand. “Maura, my heart, you are so lovely. I am so proud to be with you. I want there to be more for you and me. I want —"

  He broke off as a man and woman came out of their cabin a few yards away. Maura drew her hand from his grasp, and turning, began to walk once more.

  “I'm sorry, Alexandros,” she said quietly as he fell into step beside her. “I never meant for there to be anything serious in my being with you. I was being friendly, getting to know someone from another country. That's all."

  “I understand that,” he said, gesturing with one hand in frustration, “but the time is so short. Soon you will be gone."

  “And there will be another girl. You must see different girls every week."

  “None like you,” he told her, his voice distant.

  She sent him a quick look as they climbed the stairs. “I'm more flattered than I can say that you think so, but I doubt it."

  “You refuse to believe me, to hear what I am saying."

  “No, no I don't. I can't help it if I can't—can't feel the way you want me to feel."

  “All right. All right, then,” he said as they reached the promenade deck. “I must have patience. Will you meet me in the lido bar tonight after dinner? I will be off duty then, and we can talk."

  “Alexandros, I'm not sure —"

  “I will look for you,” he said firmly, and taking her hand, pressing it, he strode to the outside door, pushed through it, and headed for the stairs that led to the bridge.

  Maura shook her head. Nikolaos had tried to warn her. She should have paid more attention, but who would have thought matters could become so complicated in such a short time? Though she searched her mind, she could think of nothing she had done to give Alexandros any reason to suppose he could monopolize her time. It was amazing to her that, with as many young women as he must meet, he should not have learned to take these shipboard meetings with a light attitude. In this day and age there must be any number of girls who would be delighted to be swept into sudden, short-lived intimacy. If one would not play along, there was always another. She could not delude herself, despite what he had said, that she was so different—different enough to turn his mind to thoughts of a more permanent relationship. Perhaps the problem was her disinclination to succumb to his charm. If there were pride and some sort of shipboard reputation to be protected, as Nikolaos had hinted, then might the idea not be to see how quickly and completely she could be captivated, and that in its most physical sense?

  She had never meant for the cruise to turn out this way. She had expected to relax, to enjoy the sun and sea air, to make a few notes for Aunt Maggie on the various ports, and then, after a week, to return to the apartment rested, and basically the same as when she had left. What day was this? Only Tuesday? It seemed impossible.

  Maura climbed to the lido deck, a frown between her brows. Her thoughts were so abstracted that she had nearly reached the pool before she noticed the man in the water. He swam with sure, easy strokes, cleaving the water in a lazy circle around a child in a swim ring. The child, a little girl of less than two, with golden ringlets and enormous dark eyes, chortled in glee as she kicked and splashed, trying to catch Nikolaos Vassos. Her small hands clutched at the sun-warmed muscles of his shoulders, closing on the dark, sculptured waves of his hair that, sleek with water, were molded to his head. He laughed with a flash of white teeth as he shook free, and to the shrieking joy of the child, took the line attached to her swim ring to tow her around the pool.

  Nearby sat the assistant cruise director, the blonde woman with the Slavic accent. She looked trim this morning in the white blouse and blue skirt and sandals that constituted her uniform while at sea. Instead of keeping her eyes on the young daughter of Captain Spiridion, however, she was watching the man who played with her.

  Maura changed her direction abruptly. Nikolaos's gentleness and obvious pleasure with the child struck at some vulnerable region of her heart. She had nothing to say to him this morning. She did not want to intrude, nor did she care, just now, to appear to be seeking him out.

  “Maura!"

  She turned with reluctance at the call. Her tones stiff, she said, “Good morning."

  “Come and join us,” Nikolaos suggested. With one long arm, he scooped the laughing child out of the water, leaving the swim ring behind. Placing her firmly on the wood and outdoor carpeting of tike poolside curbing, he heaved himself up beside her with lithe strength. The look he turned in Maura's direction was so expectant it held an element of command. Almost against her will, she moved toward him.

  “This is Katrina,” he said when Maura had seated herself on the curbing with the little girl between them. “Katrina, will you say hello to Maura?"

  The child climbed to her feet, and with the grinning exuberance of one who was certain of her welcome, flung her arms around Maura's neck. Nikolaos spoke a few quick words in Greek, and Katrina, with a glance in his direction, pressed a decidedly moist kiss to Maura's cheek before tumbling into her lap.

  Maura caught the child and returned her kiss. Settling her more comfortably in the circle of her arms, she said, “Good grief, is she bilingual already?"

  “She is beginning to be. Her mother is an American."

  “I see,” Maura said, unable to resist touching the little girl's hair that the sun and sea breezes were already beginning to dry into fine gold curls.

  “It comes easy at her age,” Nikolaos said.

  “I saw in the list of the day's activities that they are having lessons in Greek this morning. M
aybe I should take her with me as an interpreter."

  “There's no need for lessons. I'll teach you, if you would like to learn."

  Her attention determinedly on Katrina, Maura said, “I don't suppose it's any use. There isn't time for much progress before we dock in New Orleans."

  “I don't know about that. It depends on how much time is spent on it.” There was stillness mirrored in the darkness of his eyes.

  “I—I couldn't monopolize the days you have left."

  “Is that it,” he asked, a hard note entering his voice, “or is it simply that you would rather not be alone with me?"

  “No, of course not,” she answered, flicking him a glance from under her lashes. “It's just that I see nothing to be gained from lessons."

  “Must something always be gained?"

  “Not as long as—as nothing is lost,” she answered, her voice low.

  The little girl in Maura's arms looked from one to the other as the strain between them communicated itself to her. Her face clouded in a frown, and she began to whimper. Nikolaos held out his hands, and she went to him willingly, but she could not be consoled. The assistant cruise director rose from her deck chair not too far away and came forward.

  “Shall I take Katrina to her mother?” she asked, going down on one knee.

  “Yes, I expect you had better,” Nikolaos said, and unclasped the small arms from around his neck. A note of unaccustomed softness in his voice, he said against the child's hair, “Good-bye for now, little one."

  With a cool look for Maura, the blonde woman rose and carried the child away. Before she was out of sight, Nikolaos turned to Maura.

  “What is this you are saying? What is it you think to lose?"

  “I think you know,” Maura said, leaning forward a little so that her hair shielded her face, bracing her hands on each side of herself on the pool curbing as she slowly kicked her feet in the water below.

  “I prefer for you to explain."

  Maura looked up, flinging her hair back over her shoulder, stung by the imperious note in his voice. “All right. Regardless of what you may have gathered from what I said to your grandmother, I am not interested in a brief shipboard encounter. I have never indulged in easy affairs, or quick, intimate relationships. And I see no reason to start just because we are at sea and I may never see you again."

  “That is,” he said, his eyes narrowing, “a most virtuous stand for a woman in today's world."

  “It's the way I feel. I told you once before that I was old-fashioned."

  “It's an attitude much admired in my country."

  “I wouldn't know about that I only know that I am not desperate for you to enliven my trip. And though I can see that you must be bored with the inactivity since you did not particularly want to come on this ship, I'm afraid you are going to have to look somewhere else for entertainment."

  He stared at her a moment. “And if I said it was not boredom that caused me to be interested in you?"

  “I would have to look for another reason, wouldn't I?"

  “Such as?"

  “You disapproved of me so thoroughly such a short time ago as a companion for your grandmother,” she told him in a fierce undertone, “that I am forced to wonder now if you wouldn't like to direct my attention to yourself to save her from my encroaching ways?"

  The charge, until now no more than a vague idea in the back of her mind, came tumbling out before she had given it due thought. She would not have taken it back, however, even if she could.

  His features tightened. “So that is what you think. You underestimate yourself badly, my darling Maura."

  The endearment, spoken in such a cold tone, sent a shaft of pain through her. “That may be,” she said with a defiant lift of her chin, “but I doubt I am in danger of doing the same with you."

  They were interrupted then by the arrival of a party of laughing teenagers at the pool. Maura made that her excuse to slide into the water. She swam slowly up and down, trying to cool her flushed face and calm her troubled mind. By the time she had had enough of being splashed and bumped by the rowdy group of young people in the small space of water, Nikolaos had gone.

  The words they had exchanged remained with her, along with a malaise of the spirit brought on by the quarrel. Even after the ship had docked at George Town on Grand Cayman, and she had walked alone into the town, she still could not shake the feeling that she might have made a mistake.

  Was it an error in judgment? Had she accused Nikolaos Vassos wrongly? Was it possible that he had sought her out in these last few days for the sake of her company only? Or was the error in showing her hand, letting him know what she thought of him and his midnight kisses?

  What was the point in worrying about it? In four more days, the cruise would be over. She would never see the arrogant Greek and his grandmother again. With a small effort, and a little luck, she should be able to avoid them both for the duration. She would certainly try.

  Grand Cayman, like Cozumel, was a flat island, so much so that it was impossible not to wonder what happened to the low land mass when a hurricane swept in from the surrounding Caribbean. A Crown Colony of Britain, it was one of a string of islands known as the British West Indies. The language spoken, therefore, was a proper British English, and it was an extremely proper English-style bobby who held up traffic so that the passengers from the cruise ship could cross the harbor road to enter the shopping district.

  George Town, the principal city of the island, was a duty-free port. One of the main attractions was the perfumes, the crystal and china, the gold, silver, and diamond jewelry, the Spanish leathers, German cameras, Japanese watches, Irish linens, Scottish woolens, and French designers fashions, as well as liquor from all over the world, that could be purchased. Priced as much as forty percent less than goods of similar quality in the United States where import duties were imposed by the Federal Government, and for the most part at considerably less than in the duty-free shops on the ship, there were many bargains to be found. Grand Cayman was also known for its tortoiseshell jewelry, one of the few places in the world where authentic tortoiseshell could be found. The green turtles from which the tortoiseshell came were an endangered species, and only on Grand Cayman, where they were grown on a special turtle farm, was it legal to harvest the reptiles for their shells.

  Maura wandered up and down the wide, clean streets of the town, admiring the hedges of hibiscus with their great pink and red flowers the size of soup plates and the rampart brilliance of bougainvillea that sprawled everywhere. There was much white used in wood and in marble, in stone and concrete, and also the bleached seashells that had been utilized as paving material. Such usage might have the advantage of reflecting the tropical heat, but it also created a blinding glare as the hot sun poured down upon the town.

  Maura, in a scooped-neck cotton blouse and a crisp sailcloth skirt of pale yellow, and with her hair caught back by a yellow band, was not too conscious of it. Several of the older couples from the Athena were wilting in the heat and glare, however. Even Maura was glad of the protection of her sunglasses, and the air-conditioned dimness of the shops.

  Maura bought a tortoiseshell clasp set with gold for her hair, and a small statuette of a fledgling owl done in frosted Lalique crystal. With these in her arms, she remembered a request made by her great-aunt for a few issues of stamps from the island. Renowned for their brilliant colors and flamboyant, tropical subjects, and for being printed for one of the smallest postal systems in existence, they had a scarcity value and were well known to philatelists all over the world.

  The post office, a fairly old building of the Victorian era with much brass, polished wood, and whirling ceiling fans, was doing a brisk business. Maura had to stand in line to see the elderly woman in charge of dispensing stamps. Emerging once more into the afternoon heat, she tucked her purchases into her handbag and stood looking up and down the street.

  It was still two hours before the Athena was due to sail. There was a
beach party sponsored by the ship at one of the large hotels that ringed the shoreline. Somehow, Maura did not feel like another party; more rum-flavored drinks, loud music, and chatter. The ship would be fairly deserted with everyone on shore.

  She set out with an easy, swinging stride. There was no hurry. She might stop at another shop or two, if she saw something interesting. Or even walk a little way along the harbor toward the beach.

  Ahead of her was a jewelry shop with a line of people standing in front, waiting to get inside. Maura stepped from the curb into the street to go around the crowd, waiting with amused patience for a car to pass in the English manner, on what to her eyes appeared to be the wrong side of the road. Back on the sidewalk once more, she would have gone on if she had not heard a voice calling her name.

  Turning, Maura saw Mrs. Papoulas leaning against the wall of the shop. Her face was pale and damp, and there were beads of perspiration along her upper lip. The gay paper bags that contained her purchases lay at her feet, and she was trying feebly to fan herself with a hat of white straw.

  Maura went quickly toward her. “What is it? What is the matter?"

  “I—I don't feel well. This heat —"

  “Shall I get a doctor? I'm sure there must be one not too far away in a town of this size."

  “No, no, not that. If I could just sit down, have something cool to drink?"

  There was a restaurant a short distance away. Maura glanced from it to the woman beside her with doubt in her green eyes. “We might find something over there,” she said with a nod in the proper direction, “if you think you can make it that far."

  Mrs. Papoulas opened her eyes. “I'm sure I can."

  “Are you certain I shouldn't get a doctor?” Maura picked up the paper bags, at her feet, adding them to her own.

  “There's no need, none at all. If you will just give me your arm?"

  Leaning heavily on Maura, the other woman managed the few steps to the restaurant door. Just inside, a receptionist came toward them with menus in her hand. Seeing the problem, she took Mrs. Papoulas's other arm to help her into a chair. When water had been brought, the older woman took a bottle containing capsules from her handbag. Shaking out one, she swallowed it quickly and leaned back.