The Right Path.

by Nora Roberts.

Chapter One

The sky was cloudless-the hard, perfect blue of a summer painting. A breeze whispered through the roses in the garden. Mountains were misted by distance. A scent-flowers, sea, new gra.s.s-drifted on the air. With a sigh of pure pleasure, Morgan leaned farther over the balcony rail and just looked.

Had it real y only been yesterday morning that she had looked out on New York's steel and concrete? Had she run through a chil April drizzle to catch a taxi to the airport? One day. It seemed impossible to go from one world to another in only a day.

But she was here, standing on the balcony of a vil a on the Isle of Lesbos. There was no gray drizzle at al , but strong Greek sunlight. There was quiet, a deep blanketing stil ness that contrasted completely with the fits and starts of New York traffic. If I could paint, Morgan mused, I'd paint this view and cal it Silence.

"Come in," she cal ed when there was a knock on the door. After one last deep breath, she turned, reluctantly. "So, you're up and dressed." Liz swept in, a smal , golden fairy with a tray-bearing maid in her wake.

"Room service." Morgan grinned as the maid placed the tray on a gla.s.s-topped table. "I'l begin to wal ow in luxury from this moment." She took an appreciative sniff of the platters the maid uncovered. "Are you joining me?" "Just for coffee." Liz settled in a chair, smoothing the skirts of her silk and lace robe, then took a long survey of the woman who sat opposite her. Long loose curls in shades from ash blond to honey brown fel to tease pale shoulders.

Almond-shaped eyes, almost too large for the slender face, were a nearly transparent blue. There was a straight, sharp nose and prominent cheekbones, a long, narrow mouth and a subtly pointed chin. It was a face of angles and contours that many a model starved herself for. It would photograph like a dream had Morgan ever been inclined to sit long enough to be captured on film.

What you'd get, Liz mused, would be a blur of color as Morgan dashed away to see what was around the next corner. "Oh, Morgan, you look fabulous! I'm so glad you're here at last."

"Now that I'm here," Morgan returned, shifting her eyes back to the view, "I can't understand why I put off coming for so long. Efxaristo," she added as the maid poured her coffee.

"Show-off," Liz said with mock scorn. "Do you know how long it took me to master a simple Greek hel o, how are you? No, never mind." She waved her hand before Morgan could speak. The symphony of diamonds and sapphires in her wedding ring caught the flash of sunlight. "Three years married to Alex and living in Athens and Lesbos, and I stil stumble over the language. Thank you, Zena," she added in English, dismissing the maid with a smile.

"You're simply determined not to learn." Morgan bit enthusiastical y into a piece of toast. She wasn't hungry, she discovered. She was ravenous. "If you'd open your mind, the words would seep in."

"Listen to you." Liz wrinkled her nose. "Just because you speak a dozen languages." "Five."

"Five is four more than a rational person requires."

"Not a rational interpreter," Morgan reminded her and dug wholeheartedly into her eggs. "And if I hadn't spoken Greek, I wouldn't have met Alex and you wouldn't be Kyrios Elizabeth Theoharis. Fate," she announced with a ful mouth, "is a strange and wonderful phenomenon."

"Philosophy at breakfast," Liz murmured into her coffee. "That's one of the things I've missed about you. Actual y, I'd hate to think what might have happened if I hadn't been home on layover when Alex popped up. You wouldn't have introduced us." She commandeered a piece of toast, adding a miserly dab of plum jel y. "I'd stil be serving miniature bottles of bourbon at thirty thousand feet."

"Liz, my love, when something's meant, it's meant." Morgan cut into a fat sausage. "I'd love to take credit for your marital bliss, but one brief introduction wasn't responsible for the fireworks that fol owed." She glanced up at the cool blond beauty and smiled. "Little did I know I'd lose my roommate in less than three weeks. I've never seen two people move so fast."

"We decided we'd get acquainted after we were married." A grin warmed Liz's face. "And we have." "Where is Alex this morning?"

"Downstairs in his office." Liz moved her shoulders absently and left half her toast untouched. "He's building another ship or something."

Morgan laughed outright. "You say that in the same tone you'd use if he were building a model train. Don't you know you're supposed to become spoiled and disdainful when you marry a mil ionaire-especial y a foreign mil ionaire?"

"Is that so? Wel , I'l see what I can do." She topped off her coffee. "He'l probably be horribly busy for the next few weeks, which is one more reason I'm glad you're here." "You need a cribbage partner."

"Hardly," Liz corrected as she struggled with a smile. "You're the worst cribbage player I know." "Oh, I don't know," Morgan began as her brows drew together.

"Perhaps you've improved. Anyway," Liz went on, concealing with her coffee cup what was now a grin, "not to be disloyal to my adopted country, but it's just so good to have my best friend, and an honest-to-G.o.d American, around."

"Spasibo."

"English at al times," Liz insisted. "And I know that wasn't even Greek. You aren't translating government hyperbole at the U.N. for the next four weeks."

She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table. "Tel me the truth, Morgan, aren't you ever terrified you'l interpret some nuance incorrectly and cause World War I I?"

"Who me?" Morgan opened her eyes wide. "Not a chance. Anyway, the trick is to think in the language you're interpreting. It's that easy." "Sure it is." Liz leaned back. "Wel , you're on vacation, so you only have to think in English. Unless you want to argue with the cook." "Absolutely not," Morgan a.s.sured her as she polished off her eggs.

"How's your father?"

"Marvelous, as always." Relaxed, content, Morgan poured more coffee. When was the last time she had taken the time for a second cup in the morning?

Vacation, Liz had said. Wel , she was d.a.m.n wel going to learn how to enjoy one.

"He sends you his love and wants me to smuggle some ouzo back to New York."

"I'm not going to think about you going back." Liz rose and swirled around the balcony. The lace border at the hem of her robe swept over the tile. "I'm going to find a suitable mate for you and establish you in Greece."

"I can't tel you how much I appreciate your handling things for me," Morgan returned dryly.

"It's al right. What are friends for?" Ignoring the sarcasm, Liz leaned back on the balcony. "Dorian's a likely candidate. He's one of Alex's top men and real y attractive. Blond and bronzed with a profile that belongs on a coin. You'l meet him tomorrow."

"Should I tel Dad to arrange my dowry?"

"I'm serious." Folding her arms, Liz glared at Morgan's grin. "I'm not letting you go back without a fight. I'm going to fil your days with sun and sea, and dangle hordes of gorgeous men in front of your nose. You'l forget that New York and the U.N. exist."

"They're already wiped out of my mind ... for the next four weeks." Morgan tossed her hair back over her shoulders. "So, satiate and dangle. I'm at your mercy. Are you going to drag me to the beach this morning? Force me to lie on the sand and soak up rays until I have a fabulous golden tan?"

"Exactly." With a brisk nod, Liz headed for the door. "Change. I'l meet you downstairs."

Thirty minutes later, Morgan decided she was going to like Liz's brand of brainwashing. White sand, blue water. She let herself drift on the gentle waves.

Too wrapped up in your work. Isn't that what Dad said? You're letting the job run you instead of the other way around. Closing her eyes, Morgan rol ed to float on her back. Between job pressure and the nasty breakup with Jack, she mused, I need a peace transfusion.

Jack was part of the past. Morgan was forced to admit that he had been more a habit than a pa.s.sion. They'd suited each other's requirements. She had wanted an intel igent male companion; he an attractive woman whose manners would be advantageous to his political career.

If she'd loved him, Morgan reflected, she could hardly think of him so objectively, so ... wel , coldly. There was no ache, no loneliness. What there was, she admitted, was relief. But with the relief had come the odd feeling of being at loose ends. A feeling Morgan was neither used to nor enjoyed.

Liz's invitation had been perfectly timed. And this, she thought, opening her eyes to study that perfect sweep of sky, was paradise. Sun, sand, rock, flowers-the whispering memory of ancient G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses. Mysterious Turkey was close, separated only by the narrow Gulf of Edremit. She closed her eyes again and would have dozed if Liz's voice hadn't disturbed her.

"Morgan! Some of us have to eat at regular intervals." "Always thinking of your stomach."

"And your skin," Liz countered from the edge of the water. "You're going to fry.

You can overlook lunch, but not sunburn."

"Al right, Mommy." Morgan swam in, then stood on sh.o.r.e and shook like a wet dog. "How come you can swim and lie in the sun and stil look ready to walk into a bal room?"

"Breeding," Liz told her and handed over the short robe. "Come on, Alex usual y tears himself away from his ships for lunch."

I could get used to eating on terraces, Morgan thought after lunch was finished.

They relaxed over iced coffee and fruit. She noted that Alexander Theoharis was stil as fascinated with his smal , golden wife as he had been three years before in New York.

Though she'd brushed off Liz's words that morning, Morgan felt a certain pride at having brought them together. A perfect match, she mused, Alex had an old world charm-dark aquiline looks made dashing by a thin white scar above his eyebrow. He was only slightly above average height but with a leanness that was more aristocratic than rangy. It was the ideal complement for Liz's dainty blond beauty.

"I don't see how you ever drag yourself away from here," Morgan told him. "If this were al mine, nothing would induce me to leave."

Alex fol owed her gaze across the glimpse of sea to the mountains. "But when one returns, it's al the more magnificent. Like a woman," he continued, lifting Liz's hand to kiss, "paradise demands constant appreciation."

"It's got mine," Morgan stated.

"I'm working on her, Alex." Liz laced her fingers with his. "I'm going to make a list of al the eligible men within a hundred miles." "You don't have a brother, do you, Alex?" Morgan asked, sending him a smile.

"Sisters only. My apologies." "Forget it, Liz."

"If we can't entice you into matrimony, Alex wil have to offer you a job in the Athens office."

"I'd steal Morgan from the U.N. in a moment," Alex reminded her with a move of his shoulders. "I couldn't lure her away three years ago. I tried." "We have a month to wear her down this time." She shot Alex a quick glance. "Let's take her out on the yacht tomorrow."