Mediterranean Men Bundle

Home > Romance > Mediterranean Men Bundle > Page 8
Mediterranean Men Bundle Page 8

by MELANIE MILBURNE


  He shut the boot and once she was settled took his place behind the wheel and turned the car on to the long sinuous driveway leading out to the road.

  Bryony maintained the silence even though a hundred questions were chasing each other around her head.

  Why had he left her in peace last night?

  Wasn’t his possession of her part of his detailed plan for revenge?

  And, if he wasn’t intending to sleep with her, why was he taking her on a honeymoon?

  Or was he deliberately stretching out her torture by prolonging her anticipation of his possession, knowing how much she dreaded it?

  She drank in the view as they moved further down the coast, the sweeping views delighting her even as her trepidation grew at what lay ahead.

  Kane drove with his usual quiet competence, sending an idle comment her way once or twice, but largely seeming to be disinclined to talk at length.

  Bryony’s resentment grew with every minute of silence. She couldn’t help thinking he was doing it deliberately to increase her tension by not even bothering to put her at ease with casual conversation.

  After another hour of silence he turned left and headed the car along a dusty road which seemed to Bryony to be leading nowhere. She flicked him a glance but he seemed to be preoccupied with negotiating the numerous potholes in the road.

  The car thumped over another and she chanced a quick glance his way. ‘Where are we going?’

  He slowed down to bump over the next dip in the rough gravel. ‘It’s not far now; wait till you see the view.’

  She sat back in her seat, trying not to wince as the car lumbered over another chasm in the road.

  He was right about the view, she decided a few minutes later.

  The azure blue of the sea stretched out as far as the horizon, a speck of a rocky island floating in the distance, the white fringe of sand of a long beach below the cliff top breathtaking to say the very least.

  ‘It’s…beautiful…’

  ‘It gets better.’ He unfolded himself from the car and came around to her side but she was already out, breathing in the salty air.

  ‘How did you find this place?’ She turned towards him, her eyes alight with undisguised pleasure.

  ‘It’s not exactly off the map,’ he said, which didn’t really answer her question.

  She decided not to pursue it and drank in the view instead. ‘I love the sound of the sea…it sounds so…powerful.’

  The boom and crash of waves below gave credence to her words. She wandered over to the cliff face to look out to sea. Then, turning around to face him once more, she saw for the first time the cottage perched on a higher shelf of the cliff. It was cleverly disguised from the road, adding to the whole feeling of seclusion.

  ‘Wow…’ She let out her breath on a note of pure wonder.

  He came to stand beside her, their bags in his hands. ‘You like it?’

  ‘I love it!’ She sent him a quick glance and scuttled up the rough path to get a closer look.

  Kane followed at a distance, his own enthusiasm for the place taking a back seat to hers. He gave a soft smile as he saw her scamper off to investigate the view from the upper level, her long hair escaping its tight pony-tail, her cheeks pink from the sea breeze as she lifted her face to the bright glare of the sun.

  He unlocked the cottage and she followed him in, her face still aglow.

  ‘I can’t believe such a paradise still exists!’ she enthused. ‘There’s no one around for miles.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I prefer it that way.’

  She looked at him but he was gazing out to sea, his eyes narrowed against the sunlight spilling through the large windows.

  ‘Come here,’ he said, and without taking his eyes off the ocean, held out an arm for her to join him.

  She hesitated for the briefest moment before slipping underneath his shoulder, his arm drawing her close as he directed her vision to a speck out to sea.

  ‘See that?’ he asked, pointing into the distance.

  Bryony peered to where his finger was directed. ‘What is it? A boat?’

  ‘No, watch…there—did you see them?’

  She watched in wonder as a pod of dolphins surfaced, their gleaming backs clearly visible where the sun caught the smooth perfection of their silvery skin.

  ‘Dolphins!’ she gasped, unconsciously slipping her arm around his waist as she peered into the distance.

  ‘They’ll come in closer to shore in a day or two,’ he said, glancing down at her.

  ‘Will they?’ She looked up at him in amazement. ‘How close?’

  ‘Close enough to swim with them.’

  ‘Really?’

  He nodded, looking out to sea again. ‘I’ve swum with them lots of times.’

  ‘Oh, wow…I’ve always wanted to do that…’

  ‘Then you will,’ he said, releasing her. ‘I’ll organize some lunch for us. Why don’t you go and check out the pathway to the beach? I’ll give you a shout when I have things ready.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He waved her away. ‘But take care on the path down the cliff; the gravel is slippery in spots.’

  Bryony made her way through the coastal vegetation to where a well-worn path led down the cliff to the beach. It was, as he’d said, unstable in spots, but she clung to the grass roots as she negotiated her way down to the icing sugar softness of the sand below.

  She kicked off her sneakers and sank her toes into the sand, relishing the feeling of freedom as the minutiae of tiny particles sifted over her feet.

  The water sparkled with invitation, the lace of foam reaching her toes as each wave crashed into the shore. The water was warmer than she’d been expecting and, glancing over her shoulder to the cottage on the cliff, she made sure Kane wasn’t anywhere near the windows as she stripped down to her underwear, throwing her clothes to one side before plunging into the spewing waves.

  She struck out through the wash to where the waves were forming, letting each one swell over her, lifting her up and lowering her in a gentle rocking motion.

  She bobbed about for a while before catching a wave back to the shore, laughing as it spilled her out of its force amongst the crushed shells in the shallows.

  She scrambled to her feet and went back in, looking for an even bigger wave to ride, undaunted by the roar of the surf as it gouged at the sand.

  She came down the face of the next swollen wave, her legs almost folding over her head as it threw her towards the shore, her exhilarated laughter echoing along the stretch of lonely beach.

  She pulled herself upright and, swinging her hair back out of her eyes, saw Kane standing on the fringe of white sand, watching her.

  She hadn’t noticed him coming down the path and wished she’d been more attentive. Her lacy underwear was hardly the sort of attire she wanted to face him in, but the water was making her shiver by now and she had no choice but to make her way back to where she’d carelessly flung her clothes.

  She avoided his eyes as she bent down to retrieve her cotton casuals, knowing her underwear was probably no less revealing than the red and white bikini she had in her bag at the cottage, but feeling self-conscious all the same.

  ‘You looked like you were enjoying yourself,’ he observed.

  She buttoned the waistband of her trousers before responding. ‘I was. I haven’t been to the beach in ages.’

  Kane’s eyes ran over her lightly, taking in her seaweed adorned hair and the radiant glow the physical exertion had put in her cheeks. ‘You should do it more often.’

  ‘I know.’ A tiny sigh escaped as she wrung out her hair. ‘I just never seem to get the time. Besides…it’s no fun by yourself.’

  He gave her a long and intent look. ‘You haven’t dated regularly?’

  She hesitated over her reply.

  She didn’t want to sound like some desperate and dateless soon-to-be thirty-year-old woman, but neither did she want to pretend she had the sort of lifestyle th
at saw her flitting from man to man in search of the perfect lover.

  ‘Now and again.’ She took the middle ground in the end. ‘I guess I’m what’s known as ‘‘hard to please’’.’

  ‘It’s understandable,’ he said.

  She looked at him, pushing the wet slick of her hair over one shoulder. ‘Why do you say that?’

  He gave one of his non-committal shrugs. ‘Just a guess.’

  She shoved her feet into her shoes and made her way to the path to avoid having to respond.

  She knew he thought her a spoilt heiress with too much money and not enough morals, but she had deliberately avoided emotional entanglements for the simple reason that she didn’t want to end up like her mother. Of course now the irony of her situation was particularly galling. Here she was, tied to a man who hated everything to do with her and her family.

  The lunch he’d set out was simple but exactly what she needed—fresh crusty bread, cheese, a small salad and chilled white wine.

  She took the glass he handed her and lifted it to her mouth, her taste buds singing as the crisp passionfruit and gooseberry flavours burst over her tongue.

  ‘Mmm…this is nice.’

  ‘It’s local,’ he informed her, picking up his glass. ‘There are vineyards in the neighbouring hinterland.’

  She sat at the table and laid her napkin over her lap. ‘How did you arrange for all this food to be here?’

  He took his seat and handed her the bread. ‘I have some friends who look after this place for me.’

  ‘This is your place?’

  He took a sip of wine before answering. ‘I bought the property a few years ago. I built the house last year.’

  She sat in a stunned silence. ‘You built the house?’

  ‘You find the notion of me doing so difficult to believe?’

  ‘No…it’s just I…’ She wasn’t sure what she thought. ‘How did you make your money?’

  ‘The usual way.’

  ‘Luck?’

  ‘Only someone from your sort of background would assume that,’ he said. ‘No, it was sheer hard work and lots of it.’

  ‘What sort of work?’

  ‘The sort you and your family have always viewed with undisguised disdain—physical labour.’

  She took another sip of wine as she collected her thoughts. Bitterness had crept back into his tone and, while she could hardly blame him considering her father’s snobbery of the past, she wanted the softer, more reachable Kane back. Although he’d done his best to hide it, she’d seen a glimpse of a different man other than the one sitting opposite her now and she realised with a pang, that she wanted to see more.

  ‘I guess someone has to do it,’ she said. ‘But how did you rise to the sort of heights you’ve achieved?’

  ‘The construction company I worked for was going into receivership so I made a bid for it with the help of a friend who gave me the necessary financial leg-up. I worked during the day, studied at night and paid him back with interest within a year of taking over the business.’

  ‘What are you planning to do with my father’s company?’

  He gave her a brittle look as he reached for his wine. ‘I’m going to sell it.’

  She felt the ruthless purpose in his blunt statement, wondering what else he had planned for the rest of his newly acquired assets.

  ‘And Mercyfields?’ she asked. ‘Do you intend to sell that too?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  She wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or disappointed.

  On one hand the thought of her family home being sold to the highest bidder appalled her, but on the other hand why would he keep an estate that had witnessed his repeated degradations as a youth by members of her family, including her?

  ‘I thought you said Mercyfields meant nothing to you,’ she said. ‘Why keep it?’

  ‘Quite frankly I loathe the place.’ There was no mistaking the astringency of his tone. ‘But I have things I want to do there first.’

  ‘Such as?’

  He gave her one of his inscrutable looks. ‘Exorcise a few ghosts, that sort of thing.’

  She felt a shiver of apprehension scuttle over her flesh.

  ‘Austin’s ashes are there…’ She swallowed painfully. ‘We spread them after…the year after you left.’

  ‘I didn’t leave, Bryony.’ His dark eyes glittered. ‘I was evicted.’

  ‘You deserved it,’ she said, remembering it all as if it had been last week, not ten years ago…

  It had been a couple of weeks after she’d encountered him at the lake. During that time she’d avoided him meticulously, but in spite of her attempts to keep him at a distance she’d come out of the breakfast room one day a few months before Austin had died to find Kane waiting outside her father’s study. His customary indolent pose had irritated her, so too had the way his dark eyes ran over her lazily.

  She could still recall the contemptuous curl of his damaged lip, red and inflamed where infection had struck, intensifying the already considerable damage she’d caused.

  She’d caught her breath, wondering if he was finally going to spill the beans on her despicable actions. She’d been waiting for the axe to fall for a fortnight, knowing he was probably delaying doing so to prolong her torture.

  Was that why he was standing outside her father’s study now?

  She’d felt sick with the thought of what would happen if her father was told. Although bigoted and racist and at times even aggressive himself, she had known her father would not tolerate her demonstrating such violence and what the punishment would be if he ever found out—he would take it out on her mother.

  ‘Hello, Bryony,’ Kane drawled. ‘I haven’t seen much of you lately. Where have you been hiding?’

  ‘I haven’t been hiding,’ she bit out and made to brush past.

  An iron fist came down on her arm, the tanned work-roughened fingers almost cruel in their grasp.

  Bryony’s eyes met his above their joined bodies, the burning intensity of his brown-black gaze frightening her as much as it drew her towards him like a moth to a light too hot to touch. She felt the pull of his body, the heat radiating towards her, the male scent of him a combination of exercise and musky maleness that sent her senses into acute awareness. Her reaction to him shamed her, frightened her…secretly terrified her.

  ‘Let me go, Kane.’

  She knew he wasn’t going to obey her command, and for years later often wondered what would have happened if her brother hadn’t come into the hall at that point.

  ‘Let her go,’ Austin commanded.

  Kane’s eyes flashed with hatred so intense it totally unnerved her, but he let her arm go and stepped backwards.

  ‘What are you doing in the house, you filthy scum?’ Austin sneered at him nastily.

  ‘I have an appointment to see your father.’ On the surface Kane’s tone was polite but his physical manner was all surly insolence. ‘I have something I wish to discuss with him.’

  Bryony’s eyes went to his in nervous appeal but the quick glance he slanted her was bitter and unbending. She moistened her dry mouth, her hands twisting into knots in front of her churning stomach.

  ‘What do you want to see him about?’ Austin asked with his usual haughtiness.

  There was a nerve-tightening pause.

  Bryony felt her breath stall as Kane’s dark eyes met hers for a heart-stopping second before moving away to address her brother.

  ‘A private matter.’

  She felt the ice water of fear spill into her veins. This was it…he was going to tell her father…

  ‘A private matter, eh?’ Austin’s grey eyes glinted with derision. ‘I wonder what sort of issue could have to be so private between you and my father.’

  Kane didn’t answer, for just then the study door opened and Owen Mercer stepped out, a heavy scowl on his face.

  ‘What’s all this noise out here?’ His glance flicked over the little tableau. ‘Bryony, I’ve told you before not
to mix with the staff. Go to your room.’

  ‘But I—’ she began, but her father cut her off with a warning look from beneath his heavy brows.

  ‘Bryony wasn’t intentionally with me, Mr Mercer,’ Kane said. ‘She was just walking past.’

  ‘He was touching her,’ Austin put in with cold clarity. ‘God knows what would have happened if I hadn’t come along.’

  Bryony stared at her brother in alarm. What did he think he was doing? Surely he knew how their father would react to such information?

  ‘I thought I told you to go upstairs.’ Owen turned his florid expression her way.

  With a momentary hesitation which she knew would annoy her father immensely, she stepped away and turned towards the stairs.

  She heard her father dismiss Austin before the study door was closed as Kane met him in private.

  She had never been told what had been discussed during that meeting, and her embarrassment for her role in what had led up to it had kept her questions unasked.

  All she knew was that within an hour of being dismissed from his meeting with her father Kane had driven one of the gardener’s tractors up and down the huge lawn overlooking the lake, the vicious teeth of the plough on the back tearing at the soft lush grass in a criss-cross of savage bites that had taken months and thousands of dollars to restore.

  As if that wasn’t enough, he had then driven the tractor through the rose garden, tearing at decades of priceless bushes before parking it in the shallow end of the swimming pool.

  Sophia Kaproulias had been summarily dismissed from her job within minutes of her son being escorted from the estate by two burly police officers.

  Bryony had watched from her bedroom window as his wrists were restrained by handcuffs before being shoved towards the waiting police van.

  Just as he was getting in Kane had turned his gaze towards the house, his sweeping look coming to rest on Bryony standing in the frame of her window.

  She’d watched, her breath tightening her chest as he’d gathered some moisture in his mouth before spitting it viciously to the ground at his feet.

  It still chilled her to think of the silent purpose in that single action.

  It had been a warning…

  Bryony could feel Kane’s tension as he sat opposite her at the cottage table, as if he too had just travelled back in time.

 

‹ Prev