Powerful Greek, Housekeeper Wife

by Robyn Donald

  She closed her eyes. Somehow she had to conquer this—this newfound love. It was embarrassing. Demeaning, even.

  And scary.

  Each time he’d kissed her she’d blazed up like dry tinder—like a woman who had met her one true love after long years of separation, everything forgotten in the rapturous joy of reunion.

  Whereas he’d been master of the situation.

  Chapter Seven

  HEAT burned across Iona’s cheekbones, replaced by the chill of humiliation. ‘Face it,’ she said aloud. ‘You responded like a wanton, and he recognised it and stepped back before things got out of hand.’

  She gripped the edge of the sill, knuckles whitening. Perhaps she should give in, let things take their course. Her breath quickened in time with her heartbeat. But even as temptation filled her mind with dazzling, seductive images, with memories that still had the power to corrode her will, she rejected it.

  It might work—if only she hadn’t fallen in love with him.

  Torn between stunned joy at this unexpected love and a shadowy fear that made a coward of her, she turned away, letting the curtains fall to close out the night.

  Cravenly, she made sure she went to bed well before the time Luke was likely to return. She even managed to fall asleep—although she woke when she thought she heard him go past her door, and it took her quite a while afterwards to settle.

  Later—much later—she woke in a rush, her heart thudding unpleasantly, unable to place herself. The chilly grey light of dawn was sifting through the curtains, and she stared round the room, fragmented snippets of a dream playing through her thoughts.

  Gavin, she thought incredulously, and shivered in the warm room, because since the last night in Tahiti the dreams had stopped. She no longer relived over and over again the moment when he’d used the last of his strength to push her up onto the safety of the rocks, then surrendered to the waves that dragged him relentlessly under.

  This time it hadn’t been the nightmare; he’d been sailing on a blue sea, a lazy sun washing the beloved lines of his face with soft gold, and he’d been smiling…

  No, she thought with a reminiscent little smile of her own, he’d been grinning—the way he always had when the wind and the sea and his yacht had been in perfect tune together. He’d looked completely happy.

  Wish fulfilment on her part? Or a final relinquishment brought about by her new-found love for Luke?

  Restlessly she got out of bed and paced across to the window, pushing back the curtains.

  The scene outside drove away the already fading images from her dream; probably the last snowfall before summer had drifted down overnight, covering the mountain in a soft white cloak and almost hiding the jagged rocks formed by old eruptions.

  In the distance, high above the lodge, the irregular peak emitted a faint white plume of steam, white against the brightening sky, ethereal and gauzily sinister. Although beautiful and sacred to local Maori, Ruapehu was an active volcano. It had killed before; it would probably do so again.

  Shivering, Iona checked the time; she’d better shower and get ready for the day.

  They were having breakfast when Luke emerged from the study. After dropping a kiss on Chloe’s cheek, he said, ‘Good morning, Iona,’ as he straightened, and fixed her with a cool look. ‘I trust you don’t plan to wear jeans on the mountain?’

  ‘No.’ She hoped he couldn’t see her inner agitation. ‘They have about as much cold and wind resistance as tissue paper.’

  He nodded. ‘Good. I’m heli-skiing today, but I’ll go with you up the chairlift to the beginners’ slopes.’ A glance at his watch made him frown. ‘In half an hour?’

  ‘We’ll be ready,’ Iona told him. Heli-skiing? Did he know the mountain well enough to go off piste?

  Common sense told her it was ridiculous to worry about him. He’d have a guide.

  Half an hour later one glance at him reassured her that he knew what he was doing. His clothes were weatherproof, practical, and well-worn. That they emphasised his shoulders and long legs was purely coincidental, and his masculine virility even managed to overcome the effect of heavy boots and a traditional hat.

  He was dangerously, heart-shakingly sexy.

  Whereas she looked odd in Angie’s gear; the colours were wrong and it bunched uneasily on her.

  Who cared? Luke gave her one swift glance, as though to reassure himself, before asking, ‘Is Chloe ready?’

  ‘Almost.’

  Chloe had wanted to wear a bright pink all-in-one snowsuit. She’d pouted when Iona had suggested she’d be too cold out in the wind, but obediently accepted a jacket with a warm hood. She looked enchanting.

  Iona’s heart contracted. Careful, she warned herself as they took the lift down. In a few days you’ll wave goodbye, and probably never see her again.

  Unless some time in the future she figured in a society wedding of the year, or got caught up in some scandal that made the sort of headlines Iona had read researching Luke and his family.

  That didn’t seem at all likely, not with a father like Luke!

  He stayed with Iona and Chloe for half an hour or so, watching Chloe’s progress on the beginners’ slopes before kissing her goodbye. He straightened and said austerely, ‘I’ll see you later,’ to Iona.

  It felt like a rebuff, but she nodded. He looked at Iakobos, and the two of them walked some distance away and talked for a few minutes before Luke left.

  It was idiotic to feel abandoned. Iona forced herself to concentrate on the peaceful, pleasant morning. Chloe showed she had good co-ordination for a three-year-old, and her beaming face shone with delight as she demonstrated her skills. Although Iakobos didn’t seem to be around much, Iona had no doubt they were under surveillance.

  And, no matter how hard she tried to reason it away, at the back of her mind lurked a glimmer of worry about Luke.

  Once the session was over she agreed to Chloe’s appeal to eat lunch at the café with Iakobos, then took the now yawning child back to the lodge and settled her for her nap.

  She checked her cell phone, sent a text message to Angie telling her everything was fine and thanking her for the loan of her clothes. Then she stood at the window and looked up the mountain, wondering where Luke was.

  It was utterly foolish to be flooded with relief when he returned. After greeting her coolly, he closeted himself in the room he used as an office.

  Much to Chloe’s disappointment, he was still in there when she woke. Once she’d gobbled a piece of fruit and a glass of milk she had to be dissuaded from knocking on the door, and by the time he finally emerged Iona had coaxed her to help put together a jigsaw.

  The sound of his door opening had Chloe scrambling to her feet, her face lighting up as she ran to him, chattering in Greek.

  ‘English, Chloe,’ he said firmly, then looked across at Iona. ‘What is this zoo?’

  ‘It’s a petting zoo—it has farm animals for children to stroke and learn about.’

  ‘Can we go, Luke?’ Chloe pleaded. ‘There’s lambs there, and little calves to suck your fingers, and some puppies and baby…’ She stopped, screwed up her face, then used a Greek word.

  ‘Rabbits,’ Luke supplied. He looked at Iona. ‘Where is this place?’

  Iona said, ‘Quite close, I believe—on the other side of the village.’

  He paused a moment, then said abruptly, ‘Iakobos will drive you there.’

  Chloe pouted, although one look at his severe face kept her silent. However, he explained, ‘I have calls to make, little one—important calls.’

  In spite of his absence, the petting zoo was a success. Chloe loved the animals, and was smiling blissfully as she stroked a small black rabbit when a woman gushed from behind Iona, ‘Your daughter is such a pretty child—a real charmer.’

  Iona turned around, but before she could say anything Iakobos cut in smoothly, ‘Thank you. We think she is just about perfect, but of course we are biased.’

  The woman was middle-ag
ed and talkative, glancing from Iona to Iakobos. She laughed and said, ‘All parents are biased. Are you on holiday?’

  ‘Yes,’ Iakobos said, and smiled down at Iona with warmth.

  The friendly inquisition continued. ‘Oh, you’re Americans, are you? How are you enjoying New Zealand?’

  ‘We’re thoroughly enjoying your lovely country,’ he told her, his American accent a little more pronounced. ‘Time to go now, sweetheart.’

  The words were addressed to both Iona and Chloe, who set the rabbit down carefully and scrambled to her feet, her face revealing an expression that reminded Iona very much of her half-brother when he was angry.

  The woman said, ‘Enjoy the rest of your holiday, then,’ and beamed at them.

  Iona held out her hand, but Chloe ignored it, stamping along beside her while they made their way to the car. Above her head, Iona said, ‘What was that about?’

  Iakobos had reverted to being a bodyguard. He opened the car door and settled them in, then got in behind the wheel. ‘Nothing,’ he said calmly, switching on the engine. ‘Are all people so curious here?’

  She lifted her brows and said with a touch of frost in her tone, ‘We’re noted for being friendly.’

  He said no more on the trip home. And Chloe, gentle, sweet, happy Chloe, was sobbing as she got out of the car. To Iona’s surprise the crying increased as they went up to their suite, turning into a tantrum that brought Luke from his office.

  Iona had picked up the wildly flailing child, and was already halfway to her room. Ignoring Luke’s grim expression, she said, ‘Chloe is over-tired. She’ll be much happier once she’s had a bath and her dinner.’

  Chloe wailed, ‘I’m not Iakobos’s little girl. I belong to Lukas.’

  Later, after Chloe had been soothed and reassured enough to follow the familiar routine to bed, Luke asked crisply, ‘What the hell was that all about?’

  ‘I didn’t realise she’d heard.’ Iona related the scene with the over-inquisitive woman. ‘Just why did Iakobos feel it was necessary to do that?’

  Luke was silent a moment, then said, ‘You dealt with her well. It’s been some time since Chloe’s had a tantrum.’

  She said with a wry little smile, ‘I’ve coped with plenty of them. And she’ll be growing out of them soon. I can guess why it upset her so, but you didn’t answer my question.’

  The silence that followed her words was oddly tense. She could feel it tighten her skin, and almost jumped when he spoke. ‘I have a proposition to put to you.’

  ‘Another one?’

  Her attempt at lightening the atmosphere failed miserably. His shoulders lifted an inch or so, then fell.

  ‘Another one,’ he agreed shortly. ‘I want you to marry me.’

  Shock sent Iona’s head spinning. She blinked, tamped down a wild hope, and opened her eyes again. The angular set of Luke’s face convinced her that he’d actually said those words. I want you to marry me…

  But she could read nothing except grim determination in the strong features and flinty eyes.

  Something splintered inside her. It might have been her heart. Still too dizzy to think clearly, she asked baldly, ‘Why?’

  He turned away and poured a couple of drinks—a glass of the white wine he must have remembered she liked from that holiday in Tahiti, and something considerably stronger for him.

  ‘Here,’ he said brusquely, and handed her the glass. ‘There are several reasons. Neelie is not going to be able to come back to Chloe in the foreseeable future. Her mother will be an invalid for the rest of her life, and Neelie wishes to care for her.’

  Iona took a gulp of her drink, then set the glass down with a sharp clink. ‘You don’t have to get married for that reason. Good nannies are reasonably easy to find,’ she managed to croak. ‘For heaven’s sake, Angie knows a couple of really top-class ones.’

  There had to be more to it than that. Hell, he could simply ask her to take on the job. He didn’t have to offer marriage.

  Well, offer wasn’t exactly the right word. It had sounded more like an order than an offer.

  With a real effort she reined in her chaotic thoughts.

  He too drank from his glass before putting it down. Eyes shielded by his thick lashes, he said, ‘I have just received confirmation that my father—who as you know is also Chloe’s birth father—is about to sue for custody.’

  Appalled, Iona reached for her glass, decided against it and dragged air into her famished lungs. Right now, more than anything, she needed a clear head. ‘Why would he do that?’

  In a steely, expressionless voice that made his reluctance palpable, Luke told her, ‘Until now he has been convinced that I was fooled by his greedy, unfaithful mistress into adopting a child of unknown parentage. He has just found out she is truly his daughter, so he wishes to take her from me.’

  And that’s enough information, his tone indicated.

  No, it wasn’t. Outraged, Iona said, ‘Just like that—as though she’s a discarded plaything? You must be able to arrange a mutually satisfactory solution so that both of you—?’

  ‘No.’

  The stark, flat denial cut her composure to shreds. Silenced, she met implacable eyes above a mouth set in an inflexible line.

  ‘He does not want that,’ he said. ‘And neither do I.’

  Iona shook her head, trying to clear it. ‘I thought you said he rejected her?’

  ‘He was convinced his mistress had been unfaithful, so he refused to consider the possibility of her child being his.’

  And that, his level, emotionless tone told her, was all she’d learn about that. But beneath the words she sensed an anger that sent a shiver scudding the length of her spine.

  Nevertheless, she couldn’t allow herself to be intimidated into taking such a step—even though some abject part of her was rashly trying to persuade her to accept his proposal.

  Marshalling her thoughts, she said, ‘Luke, a custody dispute is always better for the child if it is negotiated by both parties. Surely your father and you can come—?’

  ‘This is not simply a custody dispute,’ he interrupted, and for a moment she caught a glimpse of deep weariness. It was rapidly replaced by a ruthless lack of compromise.

  ‘So tell me what it is,’ she said steadily.

  He turned away and stared out of the window. In a voice she’d never heard him use before he said, ‘For my father, Chloe is nothing more than a weapon he can use in the ongoing war between us—a war that started when he believed my stepmother’s lies and cast me out of the family for ever.’

  Whatever his emotions, they were so rigidly controlled she couldn’t recognise them. ‘I can understand that you’re bitter about her lies—’

  He turned and fixed her with a stone-hard gaze. ‘She accused me of trying to seduce her.’

  Iona refused to pretend she didn’t know about the old scandal. ‘Your father should have known better than to believe her.’

  His gaze pierced through her as though he could read the thoughts in her brain, the emotions in her heart. ‘My father believes he is a direct descendant of Theseus, king of Athens, who had his son killed for supposedly raping his stepmother. I think he probably believed—still believes—it is a case of history repeating itself.’

  ‘Why?’

  He said reluctantly, ‘We had been quarrelling—he wanted to control my future, and I was determined to make my own way. He scorned my hopes, my plans, and my ambitions.’ He shrugged. ‘I was stupidly hotheaded and defiant. And I suspect he was jealous. I was young—he was not. It seems you believe that I didn’t do it.’

  ‘Of course I do.’ Iona stopped, astounded by the thought of him doubting her. When she’d read the story on Angie’s computer screen she’d had no question whatever about Luke’s integrity.

  Big and dominating and forceful, eyes narrow and penetrating, Luke said, ‘There’s no of course about it. Why?’ His voice was almost indifferent.

  ‘Because I just can’t imagine you b
ehaving like that,’ she said after several taut seconds had ticked by. It sounded lame, and she added, ‘I think it’s probably because you’re so good with Chloe.’

  When his brows lifted sardonically she flushed, trying to explain the inexplicable. ‘OK, so it’s not much of a reason, but that and sheer gut instinct are the only ones I’ve got. And the fact that for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been completely honest with me.’

  Before their brief, torrid affair he’d made it clear there would be no future for them, and she’d welcomed that unsparing honesty because it had eased her conscience.

  Heat curled her toes as memories flooded back—not ones she wanted to relive now.

  She stumbled over her next words before saying, ‘To put it in simplistic terms, you just don’t seem to be the sort.’ And she held her head high and finished, ‘But I still think you’re overreacting. You don’t need to be married to prove that Chloe is better off with you, whom she knows and loves, than a man she’s never met.’

  Luke looked at her intent face, the fathomless eyes a mysterious mixture of blue and green, and wondered whether she was telling the truth.

  Not that it could be allowed to matter.

  Resolution hardened within him. Chloe was too important, too vulnerable for him to allow Iona’s natural fears to change his mind. His legal advisor had stressed that the best way of making sure his father didn’t get his hands on the child would be for Lukas to front up with a wife—one who adored Chloe.

  If he were superstitious he’d be tempted to believe that the gods had been kind to him, sending Iona his way for just this reason. As it was, he was prepared to use whatever bait he could find to persuade her to marry him.

  ‘Probably plenty of seducers have been good with children,’ he said cynically. ‘However, I am honoured by your trust.’

  ‘Exactly how did you come to adopt Chloe?’ she asked quietly.

  He paused, then shrugged. ‘I was contacted by my father’s discarded mistress, frantic because she was pregnant. She told me my father refused to believe it was his child, and although she didn’t want the baby, some scruple forbade her to take the obvious way out.’ Also, she had seen the child as a bargaining chip, an asset that could be cashed in. ‘When I offered her enough money she happily signed the papers for me to adopt the baby.’