CHAPTER EIGHT
it turned into a beautiful honeymoon. They had a beautiful island, gorgeous weather, a private cottage, and the occasional smiling approval of Teresa. They'd had all that from the first, of course. But then all it had done was frustrate them, highlighting exactly what they were missing: each other. When they came together at last, the equation became complete. Teresa obviously noticed. As she was cleaning up after supper the following day, she gave them a big grin. "You two lookin' better. I think maybe this marriage be gonna work." "You've given it your stamp of approval, have you?" Damon said to her, but he was looking at Kate. "Hard not to, lookin' at the two of you. You lookin' like the cat that ate the hen, and the hen lookin' like she enjoyed every minute." Damon laughed and Kate blushed furiously. "Your mama going' to be so pleased," Teresa went on. "She can't hardly wait to come, she that happy you're going to stay on for the holiday." He had told Teresa they would be staying on over the holiday when they'd come for breakfast that morning, and she had obviously wasted no time in passing the word on to the rest of the family. "Your mama say Mr Stephanos and Mrs Sophia stay in the big house. You get to keep the cottage." Damon smiled at her, but spared a wicked one for Kate as well. "You'd better believe it." Teresa chuckled at the renewed flush on Kate's face. "You don't have to be quite so blatant," she muttered once Teresa had departed. Damon's gaze was one of guileless innocence. "About what?" Then he laughed and rubbed his ankle where she kicked him. "You're beautiful when you blush," he told her. Kate made a face. "Thanks very much." "I mean it, Kate." His expression sobered. Kate swallowed at the heat she saw in his eyes. "You've been celibate too long," she said gruffly. "You'd think anyone was appealing who satisfied you." "Is that what you think?" "This is a marriage of convenience, isn't it? And I'm ever so convenient." She shot him a defiant look. Damon didn't reply. He pushed back the chair and stood up. Kate's gaze followed him warily. He looked taller and more powerful than ever this morning. He held out his hand to her. She hesitated. Then, when he kept holding it out, waiting, she put her own in it. His fingers closed around hers and he pulled her to her feet. More convenience? she wondered, but she didn't dare ask. There was something dangerous in his expression, something she didn't completely understand, and wasn't sure she wanted to. But what else could it be? she asked herself. And really, she wasn't objecting. Making love with Damon under whatever circumstances was amazing. She was surprised when they got back to the cottage that he didn't haul her into the bedroom. He said only, 'Get your suit and let's go for a swim. " After they'd changed, they went down to the beach. Damon was quiet, and Kate, still unsure of his mood, but aware that something had changed, kept her mouth shut as well. She wondered if she had hurt his feelings somehow, implying that any woman would have done. But she didn't see how that could have hurt him. It was more likely to hurt her, which was, if she was honest, why she'd said it. She didn't want to let herself believe it was as wonderful for Damon as it was for her. If she did, she might start hoping. . . And that would be disaster. Damon walked down the beach without speaking until they reached a tall sculpture made of the flotsam and jetsam that had washed up on the pink sand. Kate hadn't walked this way before and until they'd come close she hadn't even realised what the sculpture was made of. Now she stood looking at it, awed at the vision that had created beauty out of scrap. Damon seemed in no hurry to move on, and she ventured to ask. "Who made it?" "Whoever came by. It was started before we first came here. Even if it gets washed away in a storm, someone starts it again." "It's beautiful." "You think so?" Kate glanced at him, surprised. "Yes. Don't you?" He nodded. "But it doesn't appeal to everyone. Not enough structure." "Its spontaneity is what makes it beautiful, and its ability to take whatever comes to hand and make i? work." Damon didn't say anything, and Kate wondered it she'd made another mistake. Then he took his towel from around his neck and asked, "Do you want to swim?" "Here?" "There's a good reef out there." He pointed, then shrugged. "But if you'd rather not. . ." "It's fine," Kate said quickly. "I'm getting hot." A corner of his mouth quirked. "Are you?" She felt her cheeks begin to warm. "Not that kind of hot," she said quickly. "More's the pity," Damon drawled. He dropped his towel and walked towards the water. When he reached the edge, he turned around. "Come on, then." Whatever had been bothering him seemed to fade as they waded into the water and began to swim. He helped her fit on a snorkel and fins, then fitted on his own and led her out to swim over the reef. It was-even more beautiful than the sculpture, and Kate told him so. "I thought you might like it." He smiled at her. She smiled back, and suddenly the day seemed bright again. He didn't let her stay out too long. "Too much sun at midday," he told her. And she went with him willingly back to the cottage. This time he did lead her into the bedroom. And after another shower together, they shared the bed for a nap and an afternoon of quiet loving. Damon Alexakis quietly attentive was as awesome as Damon fiery and passionate had been. There were so many sides to him, so much to find out that she didn't know, that Kate lay awake watching him sleep, marvelling at the man she was married to, trying to decide what it was about him that fascinated her so. What she decided was that there was no one thing. There wasn't simply the smooth, polished charm that she'd been taken in by with Bryce. Damon had charm, of course. He had charm in spades. But besides the charm, he had strength, passion, gentleness, humour, determination, vulnerability. More things than she could count. If she'd guessed there was all this to the man who'd proposed to her those few short weeks ago, would she have dared to say yes? "It's a miracle," Sophia said. "It is," Electra echoed. "The eighth wonder of the modern world," Pandora affirmed. "I'd never have believed it if I hadn't seen it." "What are you talking about?" Kate asked her sisters- in-law. They were all sitting under beach umbrellas, sipping long, cool drinks while Damon taught his nieces how to swim in the shallow water before them. "That," Sophia said, nodding towards her brother and her daughters. Damon was crouching low in the water, Christina hanging on his shoulders while he helped Leda keep her legs straight as she kicked. "That's it! You're getting it! Good job," he praised. "He tried to drown me," Electra recalled. Kate laughed. "You're kidding." "I am not!" "Maybe you deserved it," Kate said with a small grin, remembering how trying Damon sometimes found his sisters. Electra looked offended, then chagrined. "Maybe," she allowed. "You were sort of a pain," Chloe chipped in. "But I think it's a miracle anyway." "Actually," Sophia said, 'it's Kate. " Kate glanced at her, startled. "You mean, it's because of me that Damon is paying attention to the girls? Nonsense. He took them out before we were married." "He took them out when he was courting you. Before that I think he came to their birthday parties with gifts picked by the corporate buyer at F.A.O. Schwarz. He certainly never taught them how to swim. Nor did he read them bedtime stories. " "Well, perhaps that was my fault," Kate allowed. "I was reading to them last night and he. . dropped by." "He's in love," said Chloe. "Deep." Pandora. "And he wants to be a daddy." Electra. "Amazing," Sophia said, shaking her head yet again. Kate wanted to protest. She didn't dare. What was she going to say? That her husband wasn't in love with her, certainly not deeply so. And he didn't want children at all from her. He only wanted sex. She wished she could dig a hole and bury herself. Instead she jumped to her feet. "I need a swim," she said and strode quickly down the beach and plunged into the water, heading out past Damon and the girls without even stoppng, though Leda shouted, "Hey, Auntie Kate, loo kit me swim!" and Christina said, "Can I come with you. Auntie Kate?" and Damon said, "Where are you going?" She didn't answer, just plunged beneath the incoming wave and stroked straight ahead. She needed coolness, she needed space, she needed time to think. Damon's head popped up next to hers. "What's going on?" "I thought you were teaching the girls to swim." "I took a break. They don't have long attention- spans." He winked. "You taught me that." She had, damn it. She'd said it only last night that a short book was better than a long one with them. She'd wanted to get back to the cottage with Damon and make love. She knew he remembered, that he was thinking about
it now. "Well, I'm sure they can use a little more than you've given them," Kate said, turning and swimming away. Damon followed her. "They'll get their turn. Is something bothering you? Are my sisters hassling you?" "What do you care?" Kate said sourly. He reached out and caught her arm, stopping her easily. She scrabbled for a toehold on the ocean floor, but it was too deep, and she started to sink. "Damon!" He hauled her against him, keeping her head above water. "There Got you. Relax." "How'm I supposed to relax like this?" She was plastered against him, could feel the slip of his thigh between her legs and the hard press of his chest against her breasts. "You did a pretty good job of it last night," he said into her ear, then kissed it, nibbling lightly on the lobe. A shiver ran through her. "Damon! Stop it! They're watching!" "So?" He kissed her again, this time trailing light kisses along her jaw, then taking her mouth with even more thoroughness. She gripped his shoulders and tried to pull away. He held her fast. An unbroken wave surged past them, lifting them together, rubbing their bodies one against the other, and Kate could feel the evidence of his desire. She shut her eyes, remembering how he had looked last night, naked and aroused. "What did they say, Kate?" "W-who?" She shook her head, trying to think straight. It wasn't easy. "Oh, you mean your sisters? Th-they're amazed. They think you're in love with me." She gave a weak half-laugh. "You've really got them convinced." "Have I?" There was a note of strain in Damon's voice. Yes. "She gave him a shove and was delighted to find that he let her go. "You really have," she added tightly. "And you don't like that?" She tried to shrug it off. "It's what we'd hoped for, certainly. And. we do have most of the year left so I suppose they have to think something. " "I suppose they do," Damon said quietly after a moment. He was treading water now, staying next to her, but not touching her. Kate felt better, more in control. "So," she said lightly, "I guess it's all right. For the time being." "Of course." He paused. "And after, Kate?" "After?" "After Thanksgiving. When we're home again. What do you want them to think?" She managed as carefree a smile as she could. "Oh, I don't care. I guess we can see what happens, can't we?" She allowed her gaze to meet his only for the briefest of moments. She was afraid he might see that their marriage was beginning to matter to her that he was beginning to matter. But she wasn't sure how to feel when he gave her a small, lopsided smile. "I guess we can." What the hell had he expected from her? A declaration of undying love? Yeah, right, Alexakis. Damon had been arguing with himself all the way down the beach, running as if the hounds of hell were after him. "Working out' he'd told his mother. "Going for a quick jog," he'd told Stephanos. Trying to make some sense out of the mess he'd been making of his life. Probably, he thought as his feet pounded along the hard-packed sand, he shouldn't have suggested staying for Thanksgiving week. Lord knew why he had. Well, actually he knew, too. He'd done it because he hadn't wanted to go back. He and Kate had connected that day at Rainbow. They'd had the most marvelous sex he'd ever experienced in his life. He'd only guessed that sex like that existed. Probably he'd listened to his sisters long enough to have some sort of imprint on the back of his mind that convinced him there could be more to sex than the simple physical satisfaction that he got from playing a good hard game of racquet ball or having a quickie with his most recent girlfriend. But he hadn't really known for sure--until Kate. And then he'd thought it was a fluke. A once-in-a- million type thing. Except now it had happened eight times out of eight, and he was looking for chances to make it happen again. And there was more. He liked her. He liked to talk with her. She was witty and well- read. She listened to him, then offered her own views. And she wasn't hesitant about disagreeing with him if she felt he was wrong. "Don't you know you're not supposed to argue with your husband?" he'd teased her last night after the family supper and she'd taken exception to his view on a recent book they'd both read. "Don't you know you love it when I do?" she'd countered. And they'd both stopped dead, flushing deeply, when they'd realised the truth of what she said. "And now one of you had better haul the other off to the cottage and show each other just how much," Pandora drawled, and all the sisters giggled, while the nieces looked confused and Stephanos looked at Damon and Kate intently. Helena's knitting needles clicked complacently as she smiled at her son and new daughter-in-law. "I told you so," she'd said. Damon's feet pounded harder now, trying to blot the memory out of his head. Why? Why did he care? It was what he wanted, wasn't it? To make his mother think he'd fallen in love? To make sure he had the freedom to pick his own bride in his own time? Hell, how long ago had Kate pointed out to him that that reason was no longer valid? God, he was confused! He stumbled and crashed down on to the sand, his heart hammering like an anvil in his chest, his ears pounding, the blood roaring in his veins. And all he could think was that the last time his heart had hammered and his ears had pounded and his blood had roared, he'd been making love with Kate. "Where were you?" "Out." "What were you doing?" "Thinking." "About. . us?" "What else?" She was sitting in the bed, a lacy white cotton nightgown barely covering her breasts, her glossy dark hair freshly washed and curling damply against her head. She looked cool and self-possessed and absolutely delectable. He groaned. "What's wrong?" He gave her a wry look. "Pulled a muscle." He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and peeled them down, kicking them off and moving towards the bathroom as he did so. He went in and shut the door, then nipped the shower on to cold. For a moment he stood braced with his hands on the white marble countertop and hung his head, breathing hard, fighting his desire. He had to be able to control it if he was ever going to control what he felt about her. He had to be able to walk past her and not want her, had to be able to look at her and see a business associate, not a woman he wanted. The door opened. He looked around. "What do you want?" His tone was rough enough to make her hesitate. Then she gave him a hopeful smile. "I thought I'd help." She was already moving past him, sticking her hand under the tap, shuddering at the icy spray. She turned it down and turned on the hot, adjusting the temperature, putting the plug into the bottom of the tub. "What the hell are you doing?" "Running you a bath." "I want a shower." A cold one, he thought desperately. But Kate ignored him, opening the taps full force so that warm vapour from the water soon fogged the mirror and began to fill the room. Then she turned to him and waited. "I'll wash your back." "Swell," he grumbled. But he got into the tub and sank down into the water, wishing that it didn't feel so good, wishing that she'd just go away. "You'll enjoy it," she promised. "That's what I'm afraid of," he muttered. Kate cocked her head. "Why?" Her blue eyes were wide and curious. Damon'sjaw tightened. "Never mind." "Are you afraid you're falling for me?" Did she sound as if she hoped he was? Like hell. She didn't give a damn as long as she got her passion, her climaxes, all the sex she'd missed since her hot- blooded husband had died. He snorted and was surprised to see a flicker of hurt in her eyes. Did she care? He didn't know what to say. He handed her a washcloth. "Since you're here, maybe you should make yourself useful," he said gruffly. The hurt, if that was indeed what it had been, vanished. She took the cloth. "Whatever you say." He shouldn't have encouraged her, though God knew she needed no encouragement. She was all too happy to run her hands over him, to soap his shoulders and his back, to let the washcloth drift slowly back and forth across his chest, then move lower still. "Kate," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Mm hm?" She was sitting beside the tub on the floor, smiling at him, her gaze slumbrous and enticing as she moved the washcloth over him. "You're going to get it if you keep that up." Her smile widened as she touched him. "I'm not keeping it up Damon. You are. " He surged up out of the water, reaching for her at the same time. "Damon!" She scrambled out of his way, then grabbed a towel and came back towards him. "You should have let me finish washing you." He lifted a brow. "Was that what you were doing?" She blushed. It made her look young and innocent. But she wasn't, damn it. He knew that. "Did you do it to Bryce?" he demanded before he could help himself. She flinched, then looked away. "This has nothing to do with Bryce!" The hell it didn't. Everything he did with her in bed had
to do with Bryce. It was like having a ghost there with them. He scowled and grabbed the towel from her, drying himself off. "It doesn't, Damon," she insisted. "Really." He wiped his face, looking at her over the top of the towel. She was looking at him with a sort of urgent sincerity that made him begin to believe her. "It doesn't?" "No." She turned away then somewhat hastily and went out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Didn't it? Damon asked himself, staring at the door between them. Didn't it? Then did it have to do with him? And if it did? He felt a combination of panic and confusion. He felt lost and hopeful. He finished drying off, then toweled his hair as well, before opening the door. The light was off, but in the glow from the bathroom light he could see that she was in bed, lying on her side, facing away from him. He shut off the light and crossed the room to stand next to the bed on the side away from her. For a long moment he debated going into the living-room and trying another night on the set tee He couldn't. He pulled back the sheet and slipped into bed beside her. Touched her arm. "Kate?" She didn't move, but he heard her swallow. With his hand he stroked her bare flesh and felt again the quickening of his desire. He edged closer. "Kate? Come to me. Please." He turned her, unresisting in his arms and drew her close, kissed her cheeks, her shoulders, her lips. "I want you." And Kate stifled her worries and her fears and her better judgement because, heaven help her, she wanted him, too. She wanted him. Oh, yes. And that would have been bad enough, but there was more. She began to realise it when they were back in New York, back to his work and hers, to the pursuit of their daily lives. She loved him. She wasn't sure exactly when it began, when the un interest turned to interest, when the interest turned to liking, when the liking turned to love. She only began to realise gradually that it had. Her feelings had begun, she supposed, even before they left that last night on the island, when she and Damon and all his family had been in the big house. Pandora had been playing the piano and Daphne the guitar. They'd been singing everything from Greek folk tunes to Lennon and McCartney favourites and when she'd returned from the kitchen with a cup of tea for Damon's mother, he, had reached out and snagged her hand, pulling her down into his lap, where he held her close in his arms. And Kate had let him. She'd come willingly, and she'd realised as she did so that she wasn't doing it to show his family that she loved him, she wasn't doing it out of some need to perpetuate a fiction, she was doing it because it was where she wanted to be. Just as she wanted to be a part of the Alexakis tribe. That had become increasingly apparent to her, too. They were the family she'd never had the laughing, squabbling siblings she'd longed for, the fussing mother she'd missed, the husband who made her feel warm and cherished and beloved. Maybe he was only doing it because he was acting. She couldn't tell any more. Sometimes she thought so. Sometimes she thought he was beginning to care for her as much as she was learning to care for him. And every night now when she crossed the days off the calendar, she did it with less conviction, with more anguish, and she knew she no longer looked forward to the end of their year together. She wasn't sure how Damon felt. He didn't bury himself in his work the minute they got back to New York. He came home early some nights, picking her up at Sophia's to take her out to dinner. Now and then he suggested taking the girls with them to give Sophia and Stephanos a break. And those nights were wonderful, too. They gave Kate an even greater sense of what Damon would be like as a father. He would be great. Most nights, however, he brought her straight home. Sometimes he encouraged Mrs Vincent to take the evening off and he helped Kate cook dinner. Afterwards, as they did the washing-up, he asked her how her day went, listened to her problems, shared some of his own, then he took her to bed and loved her with a passion and a thoroughness that Kate had at first been unable to believe existed, and now knew she couldn't live without. Thanksgiving became a wonderful memory. Christmas was right around the corner. They were, in spite of their beginning, in spite of their intent, making a marriage together. And as the holiday approached, Kate smiled every day. She blossomed under Damon's watchful eye. Most of all, she hoped.
THE ALEXAKIS BRIDE by Anne McAllister Page 9