Return of the Moralis Wife

by Jacqueline Baird

Stuck on a yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean, she didn’t have much of a choice anyway. She could try to resist him but, humiliating as it was to admit, she had spectacularly failed so far. Or she could do as he suggested and try to accept him as a ‘friend with benefits.’ She believed that was the popular term.

  ‘Yes, why not?’ she said just as her stomach gave an almighty rumble.

  Rion laughed. ‘Great.’ He leapt off the bed and pulled on his shorts. ‘Come on, Selina, get up,’ he commanded. ‘You can take that shower and I’ll order the food you so obviously need.’ And, still chuckling, he turned to walk out of the door.

  Without thinking she flung a pillow at him and missed—and heard his laughter as the door swung closed behind him. She rolled off the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom, hardly glancing at the luxury fittings.

  Naked, she stepped into the huge shower cubicle and turned on what she hoped was the tap—only to have jets of water hit her from all sides. She gulped and blindly reached for the door. She stepped back out, wiping her hair from her eyes. She looked around and spotted the bathing accoutrements lined up above a vanity basin. She glanced at the bottles and jars—all masculine. So she would smell like Rion. But then she did already, she thought, and picked up a bottle of shampoo and padded back to the shower stall. She eyed the controls, worked out how to turn on only the overhead sprays, and warily stepped back inside.

  Tipping a dollop of shampoo into her hands, she quickly washed her hair, and then liberally anointed her body with shower gel. Finally she tilted back her head, closed her eyes and let the powerful spray rinse her hair and her body, trying to rid herself of the tension the pressure of the past few days had caused.

  She raised her hands and ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing the wet strands from her face and then lifting her arms high above her head. She linked her fingers and stretched on tiptoe, easing the ache in muscles she had never known she had …

  ‘Now, that is an exquisite sight,’ a deep, husky voice growled, and at the same time two large hands cupped her breasts.

  She let out a yelp and grasped a pair of strong wrists. A large naked male was at her back. ‘You are insatiable.’

  ‘And you love it,’ he said huskily. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but you’re wrong this time. My turn for the shower.’ And, locking his arms around her waist, he swung her out of the cubicle. Catching up a huge towel, he wrapped it around her and briskly rubbed her dry. ‘Now, go to your cabin and dress—preferably in the white bikini. Lunch is on the sun deck. I will meet you there in thirty minutes and after that I’ll give you a tour of the yacht.’

  Back in her cabin, Selina crossed to the closet where she had placed her clothes last night, and withdrew a bra and briefs, a pair of denim shorts and a white tee shirt. She put them on. She was definitely not wearing the white bikini. Rion needed no encouragement, she thought, flushing with shame at the ease with which she had surrendered to him.

  Images of his naked body covering hers flashed through her mind. Trying for normality, she picked up her phone and took care of a few essential work queries, then reluctantly left the cabin and ascended the stairs to the main deck. Her hair would dry naturally in the sun—in a curly mess, probably, but she didn’t care.

  She was here to get an inheritance she had never wanted but now, through no fault of her own, needed. And Rion controlled it, she thought grimly. She had lost her illusions long ago. She was here at his command, as his sexual plaything, and that was all she had to remember …

  The weather was perfect. The sun shone in a cloudless sky, glinting off the waves of the azure sea. She could think of plenty of people in worse positions, and her spirits rose. She should be thankful for what she had. What was two weeks out of her life? A mere blip.

  A small, dark-eyed young man appeared, with a heavy-laden tray in his hands. He introduced himself as Marco and offered to show her the way to the sun deck with a broad smile on his face. She smiled back and chatted easily to him as he led her up three levels to the sun deck. Her eyes widened in surprise on a plunge pool and a Jacuzzi set on one side of the deck. Maybe that was why Rion had told her to wear her bikini? Too late now.

  She glanced down at a low table, set with cutlery, condiments, glasses and an ice bucket containing a bottle of wine. ‘I could have eaten on the main deck, Marco, and saved you the walk,’ she said, smiling. ‘I will next time.’

  Rion reached the top of the stairs from the wheel-house and paused to catch his breath—not from lack of energy but at the picture Selina presented. Wearing brief denim shorts and a tee shirt, with flip-flops on her feet, she was talking to Marco. A brilliant smile curved her soft mouth, her eyes were shining and her glorious hair shimmered like beaten gold in the sun.

  ‘No, you won’t.’ Rion walked forward. ‘I decide where we eat.’ It was callous of him, but he had heard what she said, and seeing Selina smiling at young Marco had hit a nerve …

  Selina glanced back to where Rion stood. He had showered, shaved and changed into a checked open-necked shirt and another pair of khaki shorts. He looked vitally attractive and as bossy as ever …

  ‘Yes, oh, master,’ she mocked, and turned to smile at Marco again before sinking down on a carefully placed lounger.

  Marco put a bowl of salad, bread, a platter of delicious-looking seafood and another of various meats on the table.

  ‘You are learning, sweetheart,’ Rion drawled. ‘But where is the bikini?’

  ‘I forgot,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’ And gave him a saccharine smile.

  His dark eyes were openly laughing at her little rebellion. With one hand he deftly unfastened a few more buttons of his shirt and sank down onto a lounger, stretching his long legs out before him in negligent ease.

  ‘Thanks, Marco. I’ll pour the wine.’ Rion dismissed him.

  ‘Iris was right to call you Old Bossy Boots. I should have listened to her,’ Selina opined, and reached forward. Taking a plate, she piled on salad, prawn, langoustines and crusty bread. Fish first, meat second, she thought. ‘What is Iris doing now?’ she asked idly, popping a prawn in her mouth and forking up some salad as Rion poured the chilled white wine into two glasses.

  ‘She is married to an Australian of Greek descent and living on the Gold Coast in Australia. They have a son, and are expecting the arrival of their second child any day now. Helen is in her element as doting grandmother, and spends a lot of her time there,’ he told her, piling his own plate high with assorted meats and salad and starting to eat.

  ‘What about your father?’ she asked in between mouthfuls of food. ‘I bet he spoils the boy rotten.’

  Rion put down his knife and fork and shot her a hard look. ‘No, my father never got the chance. He died five years ago. Not unexpected. He knew his heart was damaged and his time limited.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I know how close you were. It must have been hard, losing him,’ Selina said softly.

  ‘Drop the false sympathy, pethi mou,’ Rion drawled. The endearment was an echo from the past but with a sardonic emphasis. ‘You are more likely to dance on his grave. I know your grandfather must have told you that my father made a deal with him to buy Stakis Shipping that included you.’ He elevated one shoulder in a negligent shrug, but his strong face hardened. ‘It was to be his last big deal before he retired—supposedly his final success. He enjoyed a world cruise and died a couple of months after he returned. End of story.’ Picking up his knife and fork, Rion resumed eating.

  So did Selina … but something about the information was disturbing her. She was not sure it was the end of the story. ‘If your father—’ she began.

  ‘Enough, Selina.’ Rion cast her an impatient glance. ‘Talk of the past is out, remember?’ Draining his wine glass, he rose to his feet. ‘Now, if you are finished eating, I’ll show you around the yacht.’

  Selina finished a langoustine, refusing to be hurried, and glanced up at him through the veil of her lashes. Big and boldly handsome, Rion was a live wire,
full of restless driven energy. He always had been, Selina realised, and always would be. He worked hard and played hard and rarely stopped. No woman would ever tie him down.

  She glanced around at the fantastic view and rose to her feet with a shake of her head. ‘Yes, okay—lead on.’ Rion was incapable of relaxing. ‘Though I’m surprised you like cruising. Days at sea with nothing to do but admire the view does not seem like you.’

  A glint of humour flashed in Rion’s eyes. ‘I love the sea.’ He let his gaze slide blatantly down the length of her body and back. ‘And the view,’ he quipped with a heart-stopping sensuous smile that made her breath quicken. ‘But you are right. I worked for a while this morning—I do every day.’

  Why did his brilliant white smile suddenly remind Selina of a predatory panther?

  ‘Then I relax in the afternoon—sometimes in the pool. But as you have forgotten your bikini, your loss is my gain.’ And he kissed her and took her back to bed.

  Eventually Rion did take her on a tour of the yacht, and introduced her to Captain Ted—an Englishman—who made her feel at ease by saying, ‘Rion told me an old friend was joining the cruise and I imagined another Dimitri. It is a real pleasure to meet you and a relief—you are a thousand times better to look at.’ He grinned. ‘Anything you need, just ask me.’

  ‘Down, Ted,’ Rion said dryly, slipping an arm around Selina’s waist. ‘The lady is my guest and I will provide everything she needs.’

  As he led her away from the bridge for a moment it crossed Selina’s mind Rion that might be jealous, but she instantly dismissed the thought.

  She enjoyed the rest of the tour. She might have been overawed by the Theodora, a beautiful, luxuriously fitted vessel, with five guest cabins, a formal and an informal salon, but her job had on occasion taken her on yachts even larger and more blatantly luxurious. None had been as eclectically fitted out with a mixture of traditional and new, and meeting the crew and seeing the way they worked she recognised the easy, friendly atmosphere on the Theodora was not something she had ever felt on the bigger yachts she had travelled on. She was quietly impressed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BACK in her own cabin, Selina showered again and, slipping on silk briefs and a bra, looked at the few clothes in the closet. She had not brought a large suitcase, so she had none of the smart suits and gowns she needed to blend in with the upper echelons of society the majority of her clients inhabited to choose from. She had only a small suitcase, containing toiletries, towels, her sweatsuit, a sweater, a swimsuit, a bikini and underwear, the black silk dress she had worn for the funeral plus two summer dresses—one blue and one yellow, which had the advantage of being crease-resistant and could fold up into the size of a man’s hanky—two shirts, two tee shirts and two pretty tops, a pair of smart white linen pants, denim shorts, a pair of flip-flops, black high heels and a pair of sandals.

  She flicked through the closet and took out the yellow dress, eyeing the black one she had worn for the funeral and the stiletto heels. She slipped the yellow dress over her head. After applying some moisturiser to her face she brushed her hair, put on her sandals, and left the cabin.

  Nervously Selina entered the main salon, feeling like a scarlet woman—but in yellow … Rion, looking wickedly attractive in white pants and a white shirt, crossed to take her arm.

  ‘You look lovely,’ he said huskily, and offered her a drink as he led her across to join Dimitri and Captain Ted at the bar.

  Selina took a sip of the martini she had requested and began to relax. After she discovered over the pre-dinner drinks that Ted’s parents lived in Weymouth, not far from her home, she did not feel such an alien in the all-male company and relaxed a little more.

  Dinner was a casual affair. Marco presented the wine and filled all the glasses, then served the food, which was superb. Not surprisingly, with three men present the conversation got around to cars. Selina sipped at her wine and listened. Apparently Rion had recently bought a Bugatti Veyron, whatever that was, and the discussion of its merits went right over her head. She drained her glass. Then Ted said he was thinking of buying a new Mercedes.

  Selina grinned. ‘You must have been to that Mercedes dealership, Ted—the one with the museum and training track in Weymouth. It is a great place. A friend took me and I got a new Mercedes there—the small fourteen hundred. It took two months to be delivered and I collected it …’ she paused to think; her schedule had been so messed up ‘… ten days ago. I love it—though I only got the chance to drive it a couple of times before I had to come to Greece,’ she said ruefully.

  ‘Surely a family funeral takes precedence over a car?’ Rion opined. ‘Unlike your grandfather, the car will still be there when you get back.’

  She looked at Rion, seated at the head of the table, and caught an expression of cold contempt on his hard face. What had she supposedly done wrong now? Not that she cared.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she responded. And fortified by wine added, ‘That is, providing Aunt Peggy, who is driving the car while I am away, has not run into anything again. She wrote off my Beetle in a car park.’

  Ted and Dimitri laughed, and Rion smiled, but she saw no humour in his eyes.

  Although the food was excellent Selina had lost her appetite—or maybe it was the wine—and she was glad when the meal ended. She made her excuses to leave before coffee was served. Not that it made any difference. Rion followed her and overrode any resistance she attempted with an ease that shamed but aroused her—and she still ended up in his big bed.

  That day set the pattern for the following days. They ate lunch and dinner together—Rion was a good conversationalist, and they discussed a variety of subjects but never the past—and they had sex every night in his vast bed.

  She never actually spent a night in her own bed. Rion worked in the morning and after lunch they enjoyed a siesta of sorts but with little real intimacy—which suited Selina fine.

  Four days later Selina stood impatiently on the deck and watched Rion, wearing a black wetsuit that revealed in intimate detail the physical perfection of his great body, check all his diving equipment for the final time. She had never known Rion liked scuba-diving, nor that Dimitri was here for that express purpose until dinner two nights ago, when she had discovered the main reason for the cruise was a diving expedition the two men had arranged to explore sites off the coast of Egypt.

  Satisfied everything was ready, Rion walked across to where Selina was waiting so impatiently. The baggy sweater she wore did not stop him from appreciating her lithe body and fabulous legs.

  ‘I’m still not sure about this,’ he said, looking down into her sparkling eyes and seeing the excitement there. She had asked him to let her go on a dive yesterday. Surprised that she could dive he’d said no, and that there was no suit to fit her anyway. Then apparently Dimitri had found an old suit in the locker, and she had caught Rion at a weak moment in bed last night and he had agreed. ‘Tell me again where you qualified as a diver.’ His mind had been on another sport last night.

  ‘I told you—I was a member of the school diving club, and then when I finished university I spent six months travelling in the Far East. I took my Diving Masters on a ten-week course in Queensland, Australia. I have my Paddy certificate. Now, can I suit up?’

  ‘Okay. But understand I am the master on this dive.’

  ‘Yes, of course—aren’t you always?’ she said, and wrinkled her nose at him.

  Her enthusiasm was infectious.

  Rion was beginning to realise everything about Selina was infectious.

  Everyone on board adored her—from the oldest to the youngest. Dimitri and Ted, the most reserved of men, could not keep their eyes off her and nor could Marco, who had previously worn the suit that Selina was wearing today.

  The thought of a suit that had been plastered to young Marco’s body in equally intimate contact with Selina’s was somehow distasteful to him. Why, Rion wasn’t sure—in fact where Selina was concerned he wasn’t
sure of anything any more. For a woman who wore designer clothes and casually admitted that an obviously male friend had bought her a Mercedes, she happily walked around the yacht wearing a pair of old denim shorts and a shirt. She never wore make-up, the only cream he had ever seen her use was sunblock, and with her glorious hair piled on top of her head with a rubber band and flip-flops on her dainty feet she looked like Orphan Annie … a very sexy orphan Annie.

  All the previous female guests on his yacht he could remember had invariably worn full make-up and stretched out on the sun deck wearing the briefest of bikinis or even just a thong, advertising their attributes to Rion and the whole crew. Selina, on the other hand, when she did go in the pool, wore a black sports costume—sexy, but not the bikini that he fantasised about. And she never sunbathed. He would usually find her sitting in the shade with a book or on her phone. She was the least vain woman Rion had ever known—which didn’t sit well with his opinion of her as a devious, greedy woman who used her physical assets and talents to enjoy the high life.

  Looking down at her as she peeled off her sweater, his dark eyes flared and his breath stopped in his throat. She was wearing the white bikini, with those tempting little ribbons holding it together, and instantly he could feel his erection straining uncomfortably beneath his wetsuit. Every thought left his head except the one telling him he needed to get in the water fast or disgrace himself.

  Over an hour later, back on board with her wetsuit stripped off, Selina kneeled on the deck and emptied her net of finds on the polished wood. She spotted a small encrusted lump with a glint of gold on one side and picked it up. She glanced over her shoulder at Rion, sprawled in a lounger a few feet away.

  ‘Look, Rion—I’m sure this must be gold. A coin … maybe a doubloon from a pirate ship?’ She stretched her arm back, holding it out for him to see. ‘What do you think?’ she demanded, excited by her find.

  Rion thought she had incredible sparkling eyes, a vivid imagination, and was slightly mad … Madly beautiful … With her bum in the air and her body half twisted towards him she gave him a shockingly tempting view of one perfect breast almost falling out of the tiny triangle of white material.