Moon of Aphrodite Read Free

long as she lived.
    Helen tried to imagine herself abandoning Hugo without a backward glance for
    Christopher, or any o£ the men who had occupied her attention, however briefly. It was
    a ridiculousthought, she decided scornful y.
    And she was enjoying life. She liked her work, and there was very little to disturb her—
    with the exception of her grandfather'sletter, which had been disposed of, she thought
    with satisfaction.
    A little of his own medicine, she told herself as she dried her hands, and hung up the
    tea towel before going down to the gal ery to start her day's work. And that's the end of
    it.
    Nor was there any premonition—any pricking of her thumbs—to warn her that it was
    only the beginning.
    The gal ery had the tired, slightly rumpled look it always had after the opening of an
    exhibition, especial y a successful one as that day's had been, Helen thought. She
    moved about, a slim figure in her cream dress, straightening chairs, picking up the
    occasional cigarette end which had escaped an overflowing ashtray, and returning
    glasses to the trays which the catering firm would collect presently.
    It had been a good day, she thought, staling round at the numerous red 'sold' stickers
    on the paintings, and pieces of sculpture on display. Paul Everard, who had stayed
    away from the gal ery for his usual pre-exhibition nervous breakdown, would undergo
    an instant revival when he saw them, she told herself smilingly. He might even be
    persuaded to start painting again, if anyone could only convince him there was a
    permanent and enthusiastic demand for his work— which there was. She sighed a little.
    So many of the successful artists they handled seemed to suffer from these double—the
    failures, who came to Hugo demanding that their work be given notices, status,
    respect, seemed to have no such misgivings. And that, she supposed, was life.
    She gave a final glance round as she prepared to depart, and frowned. One of the
    paintings was hanging a little askew, and that was a thing she could not endure. She
    went over and stood on tiptoe, trying to straighten it, but only succeeded in making
    matters worse. There was a smal pair of steps in the office, but fetching them seemed
    too much trouble after a long and tiring day. Resides, Hugo was in the office, working
    on the accounts, and she did not want to disturb him.
    She dragged forward one of the smal velvet-covered chairs which were dotted about
    the gal ery. It was fragile, but it should support her weight for the moment or two that
    was al she would need.
    She adjusted the picture to her satisfaction, and leaned back a little to make sure it was
    exactly level again. The shift of her weight caused the chair to rock on its narrow legs,
    and she knew with a sudden shock that it was going to fal over, and that she would fal
    with it.
    She gave a little breathless cry, and in the same moment felt a pair of strong arms go
    round her and lift her clear. She was briefly aware of the scent of some expensive
    cologne, and the faint aroma of cigars before she was set safely down, and turned to
    thank her unexpected rescuer.
    Very unexpected, she thought at once, her brows lifting unconsciously as she registered
    him ful y. Tal , but not overpoweringly so, with broad shoulders and a muscular chest,
    tapering down to lean hips and long legs, with a rugged strength about him that no
    amount of expensive tailoring could conceal. His suit was silky, lightweight and foreign-
    looking, but then he was dearly not English himself. He was too dark, and his skin was
    too swarthy for that. Not a conventional y handsome face, either, but one that with its
    strongly marked features and dark, heavy-lidded eyes would not be easily forgotten. A
    taint smile played about the man's firm lips as he watched her—watching him, she
    realised with sudden dismay, and felt herself blush.
    She said hurriedly, 'I have to thank you, monsieur. You saved me from a nasty
    accident.'
    'The