The World's Most Notorious Greek (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Jackie Ashenden

  She stared at him, trying to read the expression on his beautiful face. Trying to understand why he wanted all these things. Because they hadn’t been in the contract she’d signed.

  Why do you even care? What does it matter to you?

  That was a good point. She didn’t care if he wanted an engagement, or if he wanted a wedding in a church. Those things had no particular meaning for her. She was never going to have them anyway, since a real family and marriage wasn’t on the cards.

  So why the thought of them made something inside her ache a little she had no idea.

  ‘Fine,’ she said levelly, trying to sound disinterested. ‘It doesn’t matter to me.’

  He frowned. ‘You’re very biddable all of a sudden, Diana. Why is that?’

  A little shock went through her that he’d noticed. Then again, those eyes of his seemed to miss nothing.

  She smoothed her dress again, not wanting to admit that the thought of an engagement and wedding made her uneasy, because she couldn’t explain it even to herself, let alone him. ‘Because you’re clearly going to do whatever you want to do. Me arguing with you isn’t going to change your mind.’

  He lifted a brow. ‘Do you want an engagement and wedding?’

  ‘Surely it doesn’t matter what I want?’

  ‘Why would it not?’

  She glared at him. ‘Stop answering questions with questions.’

  That much warmer, more genuine smile flickered around his mouth again. ‘You’re not at all afraid of me, are you?’

  ‘Why would I be afraid of you?’

  ‘Now who’s answering questions with questions?’

  She felt breathless all of a sudden, that smile touching something deep inside her. Something hot that she’d covered in a cold, hard shell.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’

  And his smile widened, as if that was something he liked, too. ‘You should be, you know. I’m very rich and very powerful.’ His voice deepened, taking on a sensual edge. ‘And I’m also extremely notorious when it comes to women.’

  Yes, he was. She’d read everything about him that she could lay her hands on. Research, of course. It wasn’t at all because she found him unexpectedly fascinating.

  ‘So I’ve heard.’ She clasped her hands together to stop them from fidgeting. ‘Again, nothing that would make me afraid of you. I do wonder, though, why you haven’t answered my question. You’re marrying because of a will, so why do you need a wedding when a quick ceremony in a register office would do the trick?’

  ‘An interesting question.’ He was very still, his lean, powerful body perfectly at rest, which somehow relaxed her, easing her urge to fidget. ‘The fact is, I’m a very busy man. I work hard and then I play hard, and in the past that hasn’t left a lot of time for other things. I hadn’t thought a family would be important to me, but I admit that after my father died, that changed. I am the only Templeton left, and so I want a son to carry on after me.’ Something she didn’t understand shifted in his eyes. ‘Would you really blame me if I wanted wedding pictures of his parents to show him when he got older?’

  It certainly sounded good. Almost as if he believed every word he’d said. And yet she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was spinning her a story. Not lying, she didn’t think. More as if he wasn’t giving her the whole truth.

  ‘Wedding pictures?’ She didn’t bother to hide her disbelief. ‘This is really all about wedding pictures?’

  His expression was guileless. ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t mind announcing to the world that I’m getting married also. It’s not real if it isn’t talked about on the internet somewhere, after all.’

  Now, that he meant, she could tell.

  ‘But it’s not real,’ she felt compelled to point out. ‘I’m not marrying you because I’m in love with you.’

  ‘Why should love make a difference?’ There was an odd note in his voice that she couldn’t quite interpret. ‘But that doesn’t matter anyway. In the eyes of the law our marriage will be as real as it gets, and the wedding is just the icing on the cake.’ He gave her a sidelong look. ‘Don’t you want to wear a pretty dress?’

  She ignored the question, studying the perfect lines of his face, trying to read the undercurrents in his voice and interpret the shadows shifting in his blue eyes. She wasn’t sure why she found his motivations so interesting. Perhaps it was because they weren’t obvious. Certainly he was turning out to be more complicated than she had thought, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Probably not.

  She didn’t want to find him complicated. She didn’t want him to be interesting.

  She didn’t want to be drawn to the still way he stood or feel warmth when he smiled at her.

  Physical attraction she could deal with. Anything else, no.

  ‘Keep staring at me, Diana,’ he said softly, eyes gleaming. ‘I like it very much.’

  Her breath caught, yet another blush rising in her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to be quite so obvious with her study, but then again, he was far too observant.

  He gave another soft laugh, and before she could say anything he pushed himself abruptly away from his desk. ‘Let me find Jane and we’ll get some champagne in here. I want to do this properly.’

  Willow wanted to tell him that there was no need, but he’d already pulled open the door and given some instructions to his PA. And then five minutes later, Jane bustled in with a bottle of what was clearly outrageously priced champagne and a couple of glasses on a silver tray. She deposited them on the table in front of Willow then bustled out again.

  The Duke went around the side of the desk, pulled open a drawer, retrieved something from it then came over to where Willow sat.

  The look in his eyes was hot, a blue flame that made it impossible for her to think.

  Then, much to her shock, he dropped down onto one knee in a sudden, graceful movement. ‘Don’t look so surprised.’ His smile was wicked and slightly mischievous, wholly seductive. ‘I told you I wanted to do this properly.’ He held out his hand, opening his fingers to reveal a small box of deep blue velvet. ‘Willow Hall,’ he said formally, ‘will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  Willow stared at him uncertainly and a bit of him was pleased at how he’d managed to surprise her, disturb that cool, sharp front that was so at odds with the fire he could sense burning inside her.

  And it was still there, that fire. He hadn’t imagined it. Hadn’t built it up over the space of the time since he’d seen her face-to-face into something it wasn’t.

  A contrary beast, he’d called her, and she was. Even now, sitting there on the couch in the most delicious white dress, she looked cool and collected, and totally self-contained.

  Yet that dress was floaty and sheer, had a few little buttons at the front that were undone, revealing her light gold skin, and he could see the faint shadows of her knickers and bra beneath the fabric. And there was a certain energy to her, something kinetic, as if she could hardly keep from pushing herself off the couch and start pacing around.

  He found the contrasts in her unexpectedly fascinating. How cool and still on the surface she was and yet how fiery and restless she was underneath.

  He’d been a quiet, studious child himself, back before he’d realised how little that had mattered to his father, and some lost part of him was inexplicably drawn to her restlessness. It was bright as a star, flickering like a firefly, and he wanted to put out his hand to try and catch it.

  In fact, Miss Willow Hall herself was proving to be a whole lot more intriguing and desirable to him than he’d first thought, which was not a bad thing.

  The moment she’d walked into his office, oblivious to how lovely she was, her beautiful golden hair still in that wild ponytail that fell down her back, all he could think about was what she’d promised him—
a wedding night. And as her gaze had met his, he’d known that she was thinking the same thing.

  He’d been very tempted to throw caution to the wind and seduce her right here, right now. But he’d decided even before she’d arrived that he wasn’t going to touch her again before their marriage. He was going to do everything in the proper order. Not quite what he was used to, yet anticipation wouldn’t hurt and would make the night they eventually shared even more spectacular.

  She stared at him and then at the little box in his hand, then reached out for it.

  But he pulled it away before she could take it. ‘Uh-huh. You have to give me your answer first.’ He was teasing, of course, yet only for the pleasure of seeing the heat of her temper flare.

  Obligingly it did, those golden sparks flickering in her eyes, which he found deeply satisfying. ‘Of course I’m going to marry you. I’ve already told you I will. I even signed that wretched contract.’

  ‘No, “I even signed that wretched contract” is not the right answer. Say “Yes, I’d love to be your wife, Temple”.’

  Her straight golden brows drew down. ‘Why “Temple”? Is it just easier?’

  It was not the question he’d expected to be asked, not at this important moment.

  ‘No,’ he said, a little irritation creeping into his tone, before trotting out his standard reply. ‘Achilles has a weakness. I do not.’

  ‘I see.’ Her gaze was very sharp all of a sudden, making him feel as if she’d somehow managed to prise off a piece of his armour to reveal the skin beneath it.

  It was not a comfortable feeling and he wasn’t sure how she’d managed it. He was usually the one who discomfited people, not the other way around.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded when she didn’t say anything more. ‘I can wait here all day if I have to.’

  He didn’t actually want to remain on one knee in front of her all day, and the fact that he’d even done it at all was something he didn’t want to think about. But he wasn’t a man who backed down, and she needed to understand that.

  For a long moment they simply stared at each other and he thought that perhaps he would have to be stuck here all day, when she suddenly said, ‘In that case I’d love to be your wife... Achilles.’

  He didn’t miss the deliberate use of his name. Just as he didn’t miss the jolt of electricity that arrowed down his spine as she said it. The name he hated, because, as his mother had often told him, it was Ulysses’ second name and so they’d given it to him, another burden he had to carry.

  But it didn’t sound like a burden when Willow said it. Instead it sounded sensual and sexy, and it made him hard.

  You’re letting her get to you.

  No, he wasn’t. So he liked her saying his name? It didn’t mean anything. And if it made him hard, then again, what of it? It was only going to make their wedding night even better.

  He inclined his head in acknowledgement of his name, but gave her no other sign of how it affected him, because that was another bit of power he didn’t want to give her.

  Instead he allowed her to take the box out of his hand, waiting as she lifted the lid.

  A ring sat in the midnight-blue velvet. A beautiful, clear yellow diamond in a heavy white gold band set with tiny smaller white diamonds.

  He watched her face as she stared at the ring, conscious of how the satisfaction inside him became heavier, settling down to lie deep in his bones, becoming a certainty.

  The diamond was the exact shade of her eyes, just as he knew it would be.

  The ring destined for his brother’s bride.

  ‘This is...beautiful,’ she said huskily. ‘I can’t—’

  ‘You can.’ Because he would have this. ‘It was my mother’s engagement ring, and my grandmother’s before her. All Audley brides wear it.’

  ‘I...’

  He took the box from her, discarding it on the floor as he extracted the ring. Then he reached for her hand and gently slid it onto her finger.

  It fitted perfectly.

  Her skin was warm on his and when she looked at him he felt another electric shock of desire go through him, along with an intense feeling of possession. As if he’d known all along, even from the moment he’d seen her by the lake, that this woman was destined to be his.

  Perhaps it should have disturbed him, because he’d never once felt the slightest twinge of possessiveness over a woman before. He simply hadn’t cared enough.

  But he wasn’t disturbed. It felt right. It felt as if it was meant to be.

  Colour rose in her cheeks, a deep and pretty pink, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. And he thought that might make her jerk her hand from his and walk straight out of his office.

  But she didn’t. Instead her gaze dropped to his mouth, and suddenly everything slowed down, time becoming thick and syrupy as honey.

  Her gaze flicked up to hold his, golden as the diamond on her finger and just as full of glitter and sparks. Then she leaned forward and lightly, so lightly, as if testing, brushed her mouth over his.

  He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Her kiss went through him like light, like the dawn breaking over frozen-solid ground. A warm ray of sun, heating him up, melting him. And he almost moved. Almost reached for her and pulled her to the floor of his office, almost gave in to his own hunger, the depth of which he hadn’t guessed at till now.

  Almost.

  But there was still a part of him that wouldn’t countenance such a loss of control and so he remained on one knee, frozen where he was on the floor, his hands curled into fists as her lips brushed over his and then away.

  Her gaze was molten, smoky with heat, and he thought that perhaps the kiss had pushed her to the edge, just as it had pushed him. And that maybe she wanted him to keep on pushing, because there was a distinct challenge in her eyes.

  But no, he wasn’t going to let her goad him into it. A wedding night he’d demanded and a wedding night he’d have. And that would happen when he wanted it to happen, not her.

  So Achilles smiled at her, letting her know that he could see what she was trying to do, and that it wouldn’t work. Then he rose to his feet and moved unhurriedly over to the coffee table where the champagne and glasses were.

  She didn’t say anything. Yet he could feel the pressure of her gaze on his back.

  Had he made her hungrier? Made her mad? He hoped so. That fire in her burned so bright and he wanted it so very badly.

  He grabbed the champagne bottle and popped the cork, forcing aside the desire that gripped him, concentrating instead on the feeling of satisfaction. Everything was going exactly according to his plan and that gave him an inordinate amount of pleasure.

  Pouring out a couple of glasses, he then carried them over to where Willow sat and handed her one. She gave it a faintly suspicious glance, then took it.

  He raised his own glass and tapped it against hers. ‘Here’s to our marriage.’

  She gave a little nod then took a sip of the fizzing liquid. ‘So, you wanted to discuss the wedding?’

  ‘Indeed I did. I see no point in waiting, so the ceremony will take place next week at the church in Thornhaven village. Then we will honeymoon in Greece, at my villa on Heiros.’

  She blinked. ‘Next week?’

  ‘You have a better time?’

  ‘Oh, no, I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.’ She frowned. ‘But...a honeymoon?’

  Ah, he might have known he wouldn’t be able to slip that one by her. She was too sharp for that.

  He shoved one hand in his pocket and sipped at his champagne. ‘Of course a honeymoon,’ he said casually.

  ‘Why would we need a honeymoon?’

  ‘Don’t you want to go to Greece?’

  ‘Stop distracting me. That’s not what I asked.’

  He didn’t particularly want to confess this part of his p
lan to her, but she would find out soon enough. Because yes, she was far too sharp not to guess his intentions. And it had been something that he’d been considering for the past couple of days as he’d taken charge of the wedding preparations.

  ‘Very well.’ He met her gaze head-on. ‘I decided on a honeymoon because I fully intend to seduce you into extending our wedding night to at least a week.’

  Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened, then shut.

  So he went on, ‘You want to conceive our child via medical assistance, but if we’re going to have one night anyway, then we might as well use that to try for a baby. And if we’re going to do that, then why not extend that to a week while we’re away?’ He smiled. ‘It makes perfect logical sense, don’t you see?’

  At least, it had made perfect logical sense to him. One night wasn’t going to be enough, not with the kind of heat they generated between them, and, since they had a child to conceive, they may as well make use of that heat to its fullest extent.

  ‘Yes,’ she said at last, her voice more than a touch hoarse. ‘I do see.’

  It was clear she was shocked and more than a little uneasy, and it made something tighten uncomfortably in his chest. What was it about sex that disturbed her so much? The kisses they’d shared earlier she’d enjoyed, she’d told him as much. And even just now, she’d kissed him and there had been clear desire in her eyes. So it wasn’t him.

  Had she had a bad experience with someone else, though? Was that why she’d remained a virgin?

  Why are you so interested? What does it matter?

  Perhaps it didn’t matter. After all, they weren’t going to stay married long. Yet the tightness in his chest intensified, a surge of something that felt like anger going through him. Whether it mattered or not, he didn’t like the thought of her being hurt. He didn’t like it at all.

  ‘I won’t force you,’ he said with quiet emphasis. ‘Understand that right now. I would never do that to you or to any woman. If you don’t want me, you only need to say.’

  More surprise flickered over her face and she looked away, clearly flustered. ‘I’m...that’s not what...’ She trailed off and was silent a moment. Then she said, ‘I said I would give you a wedding night and I meant it.’