The Devil at Archangel by Sara Craven Page B

tray with
    fruit juice, freshly squeezed, some warm rolls and a pot of coffee.
    Christina felt embarrassed as she sat up. She had never had breakfast
    in bed before unless she was ill and it seemed wrong to be waited on
    in this way. Judging by the mutinous curve of Eulalie's mouth, she
    was not entranced by the situation either, and her reply to Christina's
    shy 'Good morning' bordered on hostility.
    When she had gone, Christina glanced at the small alarm clock she
    had brought with her from England. It was still quite early, she saw.
    Mrs Brandon had warned her the previous evening that she was a late
    riser, so Christina felt quite justified in regarding the next hour or two
    as hers alone.
    Her breakfast over, she found a pair of jeans and a sleeveless tee shirt
    and showered and dressed. Her room tidied and her bed made, she
    made her escape down the garden stairs leading from the balcony and
    found herself wondering as she walked across the springy grass why
    the word 'escape' had occurred to her. She was free to come and go
    —of course she was. Never more so, in fact. At home with Aunt
    Grace the day's work would already have begun.
    As she approached the tangle of flowering shrubs and trees, she saw
    that a path had been trodden deep into the shrubbery and guessed this
    was used as an unofficial short cut to the beach. The air was heavy
    with the hum of bees and other insects, and in the distance she could
    hear the whisper of surf breaking on an unseen shore.

    She hurried down the path, avoiding the roots which protruded from
    the beaten earth to trip the unwary, and bending-her head to escape
    tangling her hair in the low-hanging branches. It was a narrow path,
    and the crowding bushes seemed to stretch ahead like a dark, green
    tunnel where even the ever-present sun could not penetrate.
    Blossoms, leaves and thorns brushed her body and caught at her
    clothes as she passed through and ahead of her a splash of brilliant
    colour told her that her goal was near.
    A moment later she stood on silver sand sloping gently down to the
    creaming water. There might have been no one else in the world, she
    thought, lifting her face appreciatively to the sun. The only sound was
    the cry of a bird, and the constant hiss and suck of the tide. Shading
    her eyes, she could see far out where the great breakers crashed and
    lost their force on the reef in a tall flurry of spray. But inside, the reef,
    the sea was comparatively calm. Tomorrow she would bring her
    bikini and swim, she decided. She slipped off her sandals and walked
    down to the water's edge barefoot, revelling in the warmth of the
    small waves that curled round her feet, soaking the bottoms of her
    jeans. She began to walk along the beach, stepping in and out of the
    water as the mood took her. The faint breeze lifted her hair, making
    her feel fresh and invigorated— erasing the last vestiges of her
    restless night. v Perhaps life at Archangel would prove to be much
    more than just tolerable after all. In her present mood, she felt that she
    could cope with anything, even unwanted advances from Theo. She
    found herself smiling at the thought. What had happened to that
    rather shy girl in England who had been made to feel grateful for a
    man's attention, however slight? She was probably flattering herself.
    Theo undoubtedly had a number of girl-friends, in spite of his
    grandmother's remarks about his rather solitary existence. There was
    altogether too knowing a look in his eyes for him to have led a
    completely monk-like existence, and Christina decided that what Mrs
    Brandon did not know, she could not possibly be expected to grieve
    over.

    Where Christina was concerned, he probably could not resist the
    impulse to flirt with her, merely because she was there—another
    moth to be drawn to the brightness of his candle-flame. Besides, if
    she was honest with herself, Theo was not really her type, despite his
    attraction. She was quite certain about this, even if