“How do you suppose he found out where your mother was?”
“Most likely from the chauffeur who drove him here. He was the same man who brought my mother, and was waiting in the same car to take her and my father home again. His staff are as much under his thumb as she is.”
“You never did explain how you persuaded her to break rank and visit you.”
“I told her if she really wanted to reestablish a connection with me and my family, my door was open. She asked when would be a good time to stop by, I invited her to dinner tonight, and she came.”
“Simple as that?”
He didn’t tell her Hermione had burst into tears when she heard his voice, or that it wasn’t until then that he realized how much he loved her despite everything. That was something he himself had yet to digest. “Not quite. I was as surprised as you when she actually showed up. I thought she’d lose her nerve at the last minute.”
“She must have known your father would find out, sooner or later.”
“That was a risk she chose to take. I didn’t browbeat her into it, and I didn’t beg. That’s not my style.”
She chewed her lips thoughtfully. “So, what are you going to do about her now? She won’t stay here, if that’s what you’re hoping. She believes her place is with her husband, no matter how he treats her. He’s what she’s used to. She’d be lost without him.”
“I agree. But the dust needs to settle first.” He raked his fingers through his hair and dislodged a sliver of olive. “Look, can we table this discussion until tomorrow? I need a shower in the worst way.”
She let out an exclamation and peered at his damaged hand. “You need a first-aid kit more! If there was no blood involved in your little fracas with your father, what do you call this?”
“It’s nothing. A scratch, that’s all. We scuffled, and I…connected with the verandah wall by mistake.”
“Right!” She rolled her eyes scornfully. “Go take your shower, for pity’s sake. You’re bleeding all over the rug.”
“Will I see you later? We’ve had hardly any alone time today. I haven’t even told you how lovely you look.”
“You were so busy being the attentive host, I didn’t think you’d noticed.”
“How could I not have noticed, when you left every other woman in the shade?” He let his gaze drift over her in leisurely appreciation, amazed as always by her matchless elegance and beauty. “The dress, the hat, the shoes….” He made a circle of his forefinger and thumb. “Perfection!”
“I’m not wearing the hat now.”
“I noticed. And if I have my way, you soon won’t be wearing the dress or shoes, either.”
“Forget it,” she said, rolling her lovely eyes. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
But half an hour later, just as he’d finished shaving and went to leave his bathroom, he heard the quiet click of his bedroom door opening. Hastily slinging a towel around his hips, he went to investigate and by the light of a reading lamp next to the bed, caught Brianna tiptoeing toward the nightstand. She’d changed into a flame-colored robe cinched tightly at the waist, and loosened her hair so that it floated in a dark cloud around her shoulders, and her feet were bare.
“Ahem,” he murmured.
The very picture of wide-eyed guilt, she spun around. “Oh,” she said, and gulped when she saw his state of undress. “I did knock, but when you didn’t answer, I thought you might still be in the shower.”
“No. I’m done.”
“Yes…well…” She averted her gaze. “I brought you this. I thought you might need it. Your hand looked…pretty badly swollen.”
She thrust an ice pack at him, tugged the tie belt at her waist a little tighter and actually blushed when she saw his smile. He was tempted to tell her his hand wasn’t the only thing swelling up. Points south of his waist weren’t exactly hibernating, either. But she was so clearly agitated, he didn’t have the heart to tease her.
She was shy, he realized, charmed. Uncertain of her welcome. This beautiful, spirited creature, the envy of women the world over and surely desired by any man who didn’t have both feet in the grave, wasn’t nearly as self-assured as she’d like him to think.
“Efharisto,” he said gravely. “That was kind of you.”
“You’re welcome.” She shifted from one foot to the other and cast a longing glance at the door. “Well then, I’ll be going.”
“Please don’t,” he said, and ghosting a hand down her spine, drew her to him and touched his mouth to hers.
She wilted against him like a flower left too long without water, and let out a sigh. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not?”
“Your mother’s asleep in a room just down the hall.”
“If we’re very quiet, we probably won’t wake her.”
“Oh, it’s not that, Dimitrios, and you know it.”
“What is it, then, calli mou?”
“I’m here because I couldn’t stay away,” she admitted forlornly, “even though I keep telling myself that jumping into bed together won’t resolve the problems we face. I’m the one who insisted last night was a mistake, yet here I am, ready to repeat it. It’s wrong. We need to get to know each other properly all over again, and only then…”
“Hush,” he said, and kissed her a second time, dipping his tongue fleetingly into her sweet mouth. “This is getting to know each other properly all over again.”
“I’d really like to believe that.”
“What’s stopping you, Brianna? What is it about me, about us, that you don’t trust? Is it that I’ve asked you to marry me, but haven’t yet put a ring on your finger?”
“No!”
“Because I intend to remedy that this week. I’d have done it sooner, but I’ve had a few things on my mind.”
“I don’t care about a ring!”
“Are you afraid I’ll turn into my father and browbeat you into wifely submission?”
She almost smiled. “That’s the least of my worries.”
He drew his fingertip in a straight line from her throat to her cleavage, past her rib cage and over the firm, smooth curve of her belly to the juncture of her thighs. “Do I not stir you to ungovernable passion?”
Her eyes grew heavy with desire. Her breathing quickened and a shudder ran through her. “You make me crazy,” she whispered.
He loosened the knot at her waist and parted the folds of her robe. Underneath, she wore a whisper of a bra and tiny panties; two nonsense strips of peach-tinted satin trimmed with lace that concealed nothing. Her nipples pushed hard as pebbles against the bra; her panties were warmly damp against his palm.
“How crazy?” he muttered at her ear.
She responded by stepping back a pace, stripping away his towel and running her hands down his flanks to cradle him.
He was already hard. Had been from the moment he’d discovered her in his room. And she seemed fascinated by his arousal, displaying a curiosity at once naive and bold. “You are so beautiful and strong and perfect,” she breathed.
Her touch, delicate as butterflies, lethal as fire, almost finished him off before he’d begun, and he couldn’t allow that. Swinging her into his arms, he carried her to the bed and lowered her to the mattress. He ached to feel her clench around him, to fuse his body with hers and find again the release only she could bring, but the satisfaction, though exquisite, would be all too brief, and it had been such a long, long time since they’d made love at leisure.
“First, we get rid of these,” he said, making short work of the bra and panties.
She lay naked before him in the lamplight, and for the first time since she’d come back into his life, he was able to look his fill at her naked body. She was as beautiful as ever, her breasts still small and firm, the nipples tinted the same dusty rose he remembered from before, her hips flaring in a graceful, narrow curve, her waist so tiny he could span it with his hands.
The difference was there’d been no hesita
tion back then, no doubt. She’d reveled in his scrutiny, offering him all that she was, her hunger as urgent and all-consuming as his, her flesh pliant and willing. This time, caution warred with desire and she lay frozen beneath his gaze, her arms pinned at her sides, her thighs clamped together.
Patiently, persistently, he kissed every exposed inch of her: the slope of her breasts, the inner curve of her elbow, the arch of her instep, the back of her knees. And inch by inch, she melted under his ministrations. Most of her, at least, until, capturing her gaze, he said softly, “Open your legs, Brianna.”
She blinked and swallowed, her mind clearly rebelling at the idea, but her body had a will of its own and when he blew a damp breath against the top of her thighs, they fell apart and gave him leave to do what he’d never done to her before. He put his mouth against her and seduced her with his tongue, sliding it between the satin folds of her flesh to search out the hidden nub at her center.
Her skin had the texture of gossamer, the sheen of a pearl, and she tasted of honey and woman and passion on the verge of explosion. He delved deep with his tongue, once, twice, three times, and felt the tremors racing through her. Heard her shocked gasp fade into a long, low moan as she shattered, her body arching off the bed in mindless torment, her fists clutching at his hair.
He soothed her, stroking her, kissing her, and when she subsided into dreamy acquiescence, he seduced her again. And again, she climaxed, faster, harder this time. She clawed at his shoulders, trying to drag his body up to cover hers, to accept him between her legs, and all the while begging amid fractured sobs, “Please, Dimitrios…all of you…now, please…!”
“I have nothing here…no profilaktiko,” he said hoarsely, remembering too late that he never kept any in the house because if he was going to spend the night with a woman, she wasn’t the kind he’d bring home to meet his daughter.
“I don’t care!” Brianna cried, guiding him deep into the hot, wet temple of her body. “I want to have your baby!”
She didn’t really mean it. Just yesterday, she’d worried she might get pregnant. So he’d be careful. He’d give her the satisfaction she craved, pleasure himself as much as he dared, then pull out at the last minute.
Just as it took two to come together in complete intimacy, though, so it took two to agree when the time was right to break apart. And she was of a different mind, one that rendered him blind to everything but the driving need to possess her. Fully and completely and forever.
“Thee mou!” he ground out, his lungs burning and the sweat beading his brow as she climaxed a third time. He was lost, a leaf caught in a raging river, helpless to direct his own fate. Accepting defeat, he poured into her, gave her everything he had, everything he was. She’d stolen his heart years ago. She might as well have the rest of him.
When he could breathe again, he stroked a damp strand of hair from her face and said, “Someday we’re going to take this slowly and make it last all night. Just don’t ask me when. It could take years before I’m able to pace myself.”
She smiled and closed her eyes. “May I ask you something else instead?”
“Anything, calli mou.”
“Are you going to kick me out of your bed now and send me back to my own room?”
“Not a chance. You belong here, with me.”
“Oh, good,” she said, and turning on her side, curled up against him and fell asleep.
He was gone when she awoke the next morning, but a glass of chilled orange juice stood on the bedside table, and a single perfect red rose lay next to her on his pillow, proof positive, if proof she needed, that last night hadn’t been a dream.
She brushed the velvety petals against her cheek and inhaled their delicate fragrance. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d slept so soundly or awoken filled with such joy.
Yesterday’s petty anxieties seemed woefully unimportant in the light of the new day. Dimitrios was right. It was time to banish her insecurities. Time to let go all the black and bitter memories eating away at her. The sting of Cecily’s betrayal, the pain of her death, were in the past, but Brianna and Dimitrios, they were the present and the future. Life wasn’t perfect—that would only be the case when Poppy was well again—but it was good. It was filled with hope again.
Throwing back the covers, she put on her robe, took her juice and stepped through the glass doors that opened onto the deck running the length of his room. Like hers, it overlooked the sea and pool. To the left, a crew was at work dismantling the tent and carting away the tables, chairs and assorted debris from the garden party.
She felt like calling out, take away the gossip and the speculation, too. They had no place in her life. She was a woman in love; a woman who’d been well and truly loved by her man. Her mouth was swollen from his kisses, her body tender and aching in dark and secret places. She hated the idea of washing away the scent of sex and passion that clung to her skin, and wished the day would speed to an end so that she could be alone with Dimitrios and they could make love again.
But others needed her attention first. Poor Hermione waited downstairs, alone and unsure of what her future held. Poppy waited in her hospital crib for the aunt who’d become a permanent fixture in her young and troubled life. And perhaps today Noelle would have good news about the test results and they could move to the next phase of that precious child’s recovery.
In fact, for a woman who’d surely spent a sleepless night, Hermione looked remarkably serene and relaxed when Brianna finally ran her to earth in the courtyard, enjoying a breakfast of fruit and yogurt.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking since speaking to you at the yacht club,” she said. “You’re so wise, Brianna, and I owe you so much. You made me see that I have enabled Mihalis by submitting to his demands, and the sad thing is we’ve all lost so many years because of my weakness. I realize now that if I want to see changes, it’s up to me to initiate them. And so I’ve begun, starting with yesterday.”
“By accepting Dimitrios’s invitation to come here, you mean?”
“Yes. Uniting my family is my dearest wish, but a week ago, I didn’t think I had the courage to do that. Now I know differently, although I won’t pretend I wasn’t horrified by the scene at dinner last night. It upset me dreadfully. No woman ever wants to see her husband and son go at each other like that.”
“Your husband wasn’t badly hurt, Hermione,” she said, helping herself to the fruit and yogurt, “Just a little shaken up.”
“I know. Dimitrios explained all that. We had a long, frank talk this morning, before he left for work. Neither of us held anything back. He’s not always right, you know. No one ever is. And his father isn’t always wrong. At bottom, Mihalis is a very good man, but he’s proud, and so is Dimitrios, and that’s been the biggest obstacle to their settling their differences. My mistake has been in letting them carry on this senseless feud for so long. I should have put my foot down years ago. Well, what is it they say? Better late than never?”
The woman has more backbone than I’ve given her credit for, Brianna thought admiringly, although when it comes to putting her foot down, her tiny little size sixes won’t make much impression on the men in her family.
“So,” Hermione continued, “I phoned my husband a little while ago and told him I will be visiting my granddaughter this morning.”
“And how did he take it?”
“Oh, he growled and muttered, just as I knew he would, then asked when he might expect me home. I said I’d be there sometime this afternoon, and that whether or not I stayed depended on how reasonable he was prepared to be.”
Brianna couldn’t help herself. She hiccupped with laughter. “You did not!”
“Yes,” Hermione said placidly. “I did.”
“And what did he have to say to that?”
“He growled and muttered some more, but in the end asked what he should tell Artemis, our cook, to make for dinner.” She laughed then, too. “I chalked that up as one victory for me.”
&nbs
p; “Do you think it’s going to be that easy to change him?”
“Of course not. Nor do I really want to change him all that much. I have loved Mihalis with all his flaws for the better part of forty years. I don’t relish the prospect of finding myself married to a stranger at this late date. All I want is for him to show his son and granddaughter and you the good heart he so seldom lets anyone but me ever see. Did you know, for instance, that when he heard Poppy was hospitalized, he donated a huge sum to the clinic, anonymously?”
“Dimitrios said his father refuses to acknowledge Poppy.”
“Dimitrios has never brought Poppy to meet her grandfather. The last time my husband and son sat down to a meal together and exchanged anything resembling civilities was almost nine years ago. They have been estranged ever since.”
“But you met Poppy.”
“I went to see her in the hospital when she was born. Mihalis refused to come with me. He would not give Dimitrios the chance to turn him away. And Dimitrios would not give his father the chance to reject his granddaughter.”
“A vicious circle,” Brianna murmured, realizing what she should have known all along: that there were always two sides to every story.
“Precisely. One that has been in effect for a very long time, and since neither of these proud, stubborn men I love so dearly will break the cycle, then I have decided that I must. And thanks to you, my dear, I feel confident that I can do so. You are the kind of woman I once was. I intend to become that woman again.”
“I’m glad,” Brianna said, “and, Hermione, I’m so proud of you. Hopefully, between us, we can bring about some sort of lasting peace in this family.”
Hermione covered her hand. “When women stand together, they’re unstoppable, so if I fall back into my old, weak ways, I shall count on you to set me straight again.”
“Consider it done.” She finished the last of her yogurt, drank her coffee and laid her napkin to one side. “So, what next?”
The Giannakis Bride Page 13