The Greek’s Chosen Wife

by Lynne Graham

  ‘This is crazy,’ she muttered frantically. ‘Nikolos would never agree to marry me in a million years! For goodness’ sake, he’s dating Cassia Morikis…’

  Theo Demakis shrugged. ‘So he’s sleeping with the Morikis girl. What’s that got to do with anything?’

  Prudence blinked. ‘I…I just thought that if he loves her-’

  ‘So what if he does? That’s nothing to do with you. He will decide his own options. He’s Greek to the backbone. Believe me, family honour and practical, material considerations will be of much greater importance to him than the current slut in his bed.’

  His cold-blooded indifference to her revelation and his careless reference to Nikolos’s sex life shook Prudence to the core.

  ‘Are you planning to take that cab ride to the airport?’ Theo prompted with impatience.

  Prudence went rigid, stress flaring through her small frame like petrol thrown on a fire. Nikolos Angelis would never agree to marry her, she thought feverishly. The very idea of them as a couple was ludicrous. Cassia Morikis was a very beautiful girl: tall and slender as a reed, she had glorious platinum-blonde hair and dainty, doll-like features. But why was she working herself up over something that was most unlikely to ever happen? Why was she daring to inflame her grandfather’s temper with her objections? She had to keep her mother’s needs centre stage in her mind; Trixie had first call on her loyalty and concern. Surely she could safely leave Nikolos to refuse the marriage proposition out of hand for both of them? Her grandfather could scarcely blame her for her prospective bridegroom’s reluctance!

  ‘Answer me,’ Theo Demakis urged flatly.

  ‘All right…yes, I’ll stay.’

  ‘I never doubted it. I was really quite touched by the romantic glow I saw in your face when I mentioned the boy’s name.’ As a stricken look of pained embarrassment filled Prudence’s eyes, the older man laughed and tossed back his drink. ‘I feel like Eros, the god of love. My wealth will be your dowry and at least it will save you from the humiliation of being left on the shelf.’

  That night, Prudence lay sleepless in her opulent guest-room bed. The huge villa was silent. From the moment she had arrived in Greece, to a world of luxury and privilege that was as foreign to her as the hot climate, she had felt as though she was living in someone else’s dream. Not a pleasant dream, either; more of a nightmare where everything-even the way people behaved-was unfamiliar. She had done her utmost to please her grandfather. That had meant stifling her natural shyness and accepting the social invitations that he had organised in advance of her arrival. Eirene, the teenaged daughter of one of Theo’s friends, had acted as her companion for all of those painful outings into high society.

  Prudence had stuck out like a sore thumb at those exclusive gatherings. Eirene belonged to an élite set of rich and spoiled young people who dressed in the latest fashion, went wild playing reckless games at parties and still contrived to behave as though all the world was a bore. Prudence had found them silly and superficial and the females had been horribly bitchy to her. Time and time again she had squirmed behind her fixed smile, never daring to retaliate, knowing she could not risk offending anyone who might complain about her to her grandfather. Not once had she allowed herself to forget the central issue of her mother’s desperate plight.

  Trixie Hill had been a well-known catwalk model when she met Apollo Demakis and fell in love with him. The young Greek playboy had showered her with expensive gifts and asked her to marry him. For over a year Prudence’s fun-loving parents had jetted round the world from one party to the next. Trusting that her lover would soon be her husband, Trixie had put her career on hold. But when Trixie had fallen pregnant, Apollo Demakis had come under pressure from his father and had swiftly reneged on his promises. When Trixie refused to agree to an abortion, he had ditched her. But not before he reminded the mother of his unborn child that she had not been a virgin when they met and that she had acquired an unsavoury reputation from openly living with him before marriage.

  In remembrance of those final insults which her unlucky mother had endured, Prudence’s soft, full mouth curled with distaste in the darkness. The father she had never met had been a hypocrite, a liar and a creep. Trixie had had to go to court to prove her baby’s paternity and after a lengthy battle had been granted a pitiful amount of child support which had frequently gone unpaid. Was it any wonder that her mother had started drinking too much? At the age of seven, Prudence had had to go into foster care for a while. A newspaper had run a sad story about Trixie’s meteoric fall from fame and Apollo Demakis had been embarrassed into taking steps to ensure that his ex-girlfriend and his daughter did not end up homeless and living apart again. An old farmhouse in the depths of the English countryside had been assigned to Trixie and Prudence for their use. Trixie might loathe country life but Prudence loved it and she had often had cause to be grateful for the security of a roof over their heads that could neither be sold nor taken from them.

  Having also lived through her mother’s many tumultuous affairs of the heart, Prudence believed that she cherished few illusions about men. If she had worn a romantic glow while thinking about Nikolos Angelis it could only have been the result of foolish, self-indulgent daydreams. After all, she was painfully aware that fairy stories didn’t happen in real life. Rich men most often married rich women. If a rich man married a poor woman she would have some redeeming feature like stunning beauty to even the balance. But then in her unfortunate mother’s case even beauty hadn’t worked a miracle. In the same way gorgeous men tended to marry gorgeous women and Nikolos was drop-dead dazzling.

  The girls in his set mobbed him, hung on his every word, flirted like mad with him, fought over him-in short, acted like sex-starved tarts. He could hardly avoid knowing the extent of his own pulling power. Of course, he had been spoilt by the awe, admiration and attention he commanded. A bus load of generous good fairies seemed to have blessed his privileged birth. He was highly intelligent, incredibly arrogant and impossibly proud. No more impervious to his raw, charismatic attraction than any other girl, Prudence had been wildly impressed by him as well. But what had tipped her from having a harmless fascination with his incredible looks into falling hopelessly in love was the entirely unexpected streak of stubborn gallantry that Nikolos had revealed.

  On more than one occasion, Nikolos had come to Prudence’s rescue when his friends decided to make her the butt of their cruel sense of humour. Why? Prudence’s companion, Eirene, thoroughly resented having to take Prudence everywhere she went. The other girl’s animosity had been expressed by nasty jokes and comments that targeted Prudence’s lack of attraction, her weight, her cheap clothing and her apparent stupidity. Eirene’s friends had soon jumped on the same bandwagon.

  That Nikolos Angelis should come to her aid with his lightning-fast stabs of wit and create a distraction to deflect unfriendly attention from her had truly staggered Prudence. After all, he had still contrived to act most of the time as if she was invisible and utterly beneath his exalted notice. But that wholly disconcerting display of essential male protectiveness had touched Prudence deeply. Nikolos might be hatefully arrogant, domineering and superior, but he was also the bold, living, breathing essence of tough, unapologetic masculinity. She could not believe that he would accept the demeaning matrimonial lifebelt that Theo Demakis planned to throw in his direction.

  Within forty-eight hours, when she was summoned to her grandfather’s study, Prudence learnt that she was very much mistaken on that score.

  ‘Come with me.’ The older man’s heavy features wore a nauseating expression of triumph. ‘Nikolos Angelis is waiting for you in the drawing room. I met with his father and the lawyers this morning. All the essentials have been agreed. Your mother’s debts will be settled and I will advance funds for a private rehabilitation programme for her. You and Nikolos will be husband and wife within the month.’

  ‘Husband and…w-wife?’ Shock ripped through Prudence in a blinding wave. Her gra
ndfather had been right and she had been wrong; Nikolos was willing to marry her to save his family from impoverishment. Did he feel that he had as little choice as she had? Given the option, Prudence knew she could not turn her back on her needy mother, leaving Trixie to sink as she surely would without support and treatment. It finally dawned on her that both she and Nikolos were well and truly trapped by loyalty and good intentions and her heart sank, for, just as she was quite sure that he did not want to marry her, she was no more eager to become his unwanted wife.

  ‘What a very fortunate young woman you are! Don’t keep your bridegroom waiting.’ Smirking with derisive amusement, Theo Demakis urged his reluctant granddaughter across the hall towards the drawing room. ‘Now we’ve caught him, don’t let your prize slip the net!’

  The instant Prudence entered the large, over-furnished room, she collided with shimmering golden eyes and knew beyond doubt that Nikolos had heard her grandfather’s scornful taunt. Even while she tried to make herself look away, another less sensible part of her wanted to savour every aspect of his appearance. Alas, the well-cut dark suit he wore teamed with a white shirt made him look distinctly intimidating. She had never seen him in such formal clothing: he might have been dressed to attend a funeral, she thought dismally, scanning the stony impassivity of his demeanour. Nerves made her stumble over the corner of a rug and bump her hip on a small table. She felt hideously like a baby elephant penned up in a confined space.

  ‘Oh, my goodness…sorry,’ she muttered, righting the rocking table with a frantic hand.

  Nikolos had noticed that before; she said sorry even when she didn’t do anything wrong. He surveyed her from the floor up with rigorous thoroughness. In true Demakis style, she had not grown up but out and she barely reached the top of his chest; she was small and dumpy. She wore drab layers like an old lady: a brown skirt that almost reached her ankles, a long, loose white over-shirt, a black knee-length wrap cardigan. It was impossible to tell what lay beneath all that cloaking fabric. He imagined telling her to take it all off so that he could see exactly what he was getting. Her grandfather wouldn’t object. Demakis was a vicious bastard. Even so, the older man had spelt out the grim reality that his granddaughter was in love and eager to marry the object of her affections.

  ‘Do you have to stare at me?’ Prudence breathed tautly.

  ‘I never took the time to look at you before.’ Nikolos continued to study her with unapologetic intensity. She was going to be his wife. She might as well get the message now that he would do exactly as he liked and that baklava was off the menu for the foreseeable future. She was not fat, he told himself, just a little rounded and solid. He continued to mentally score her attributes. Lots and lots of long, shiny chestnut-brown hair the colour of an English autumn. OK, a positive at last. Skin with the flush of a peach and perfect-another plus. Eyes that were the soft blue of a winter sky and full of unhappiness.

  ‘Please…’ she gasped urgently.

  Nikolos saw the glimmer of tears in her strained gaze and removed his attention from her again. He had seen more than he wanted to see and he was angry with her for having so little savoir-faire. A Greek girl would have had refreshments served while she made polite enquiries about his family. What did she have to be unhappy about? The lack of romantic frills? What more could she ask from him? Wasn’t she getting the husband she wanted? Hadn’t Theo Demakis virtually bought her husband for her? That humiliating thought lanced through his tall, lean physique like a poisoned knife.

  Prudence was trembling. She felt horribly like some slave girl on the sale block and was vaguely surprised Nikolos hadn’t checked her teeth. His hard self-assurance took her equally aback for she had assumed that the situation would bring down the barriers of polite reserve between them. In the face of such odds, his forbidding cool was daunting. ‘I didn’t want this…if there was any other way…’ Her nervous, apologetic voice ran quickly out of steam.

  His handsome mouth took on a sardonic edge, for he was not impressed by her claim. ‘But there isn’t. We should talk about terms.’

  Her long brown lashes lifted. ‘Terms?’ she said blankly.

  ‘This is an arranged marriage and we’re almost strangers. It will work better if we are honest with each other now.’

  Prudence breathed in deeply. ‘Can’t we just behave like friends?’

  Against the backdrop of the family lawyers still battling to hammer out a financial agreement with his mother distraught and his father wretched with guilt, that question struck Nikolos as utterly naïve. He could only think that she was as thick as a brick. ‘Friends don’t marry and have children. I need to know what you expect from me as a husband.’

  Discomfiture at that reference to children tensed Prudence’s small, taut frame. ‘I know that I’m not the wife you’d have picked for yourself. I suppose we’ll just learn to manage as we go along.’

  ‘That’s a recipe for chaos.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t like rules.’

  His keen amber scrutiny flared in surprise at that level of perception and arrowed back to her. No, not thick as a brick, he registered, a frown of disconcertion momentarily pleating his winged ebony brows.

  He reached for her hand. ‘I have a ring…it belonged to my grandmother. Of course, if you don’t like it, you can-’

  ‘No…no, it’s lovely; really, really lovely.’ Rosy colour warmed her cheeks and rare pleasure enfolded her. The ruby and diamond ring slid onto her finger as though it belonged there. His gift of a family heirloom surprised and moved her. ‘I wasn’t expecting this…’

  ‘It would be fair to say that life is currently full of the unexpected.’ When Nikolos had flatly refused to buy an engagement ring, his father had persuaded him to bring the ruby. Symeon had, however, forecast that Prudence would be offended by the presentation of an unfashionable, if valuable, piece of jewellery that had belonged to someone else first.

  ‘Thank you…’ Prudence’s voice was husky with emotion. She studied the ring from all angles, admiring the deep scarlet glow of the ruby and the glitter of the diamonds. That it fitted as though it had been made for her struck her as a good omen.

  Discomfited by the level of her enthusiasm, Nikolos shrugged in a very masculine way and stayed silent. It was dawning on him that, apart from a shabby plastic watch, he had never seen her wear a single piece of jewellery and that it was perfectly possibly she did not own any. Suddenly he wished he had bought a proper ring for her. ‘Pudding…’ he breathed with uncharacteristic awkwardness. ‘Do you mind if I call you that?’

  ‘No, of course not…I’ve always hated the name I was born with.’ The nickname that had embarrassed her suddenly acquired acceptability on his lips and seemed more in the nature of an endearing pet name. ‘I’ll be the best wife I can be…’

  Nikolos almost groaned out loud. He knew she was dying to hear him say the same thing back on his own behalf but he would not lie to her. He was a long way from achieving an accepting state of grace, if he ever could. He didn’t want to marry her. He didn’t want to be married, full stop. Nor did he want a baby, he conceded with corrosive bitterness. Nothing was likely to alter those irrefutable facts.

  Three short weeks later, almost lost in a frothy sea of handmade lace and expensive silken fabric, Prudence walked down the aisle on her grandfather’s arm to become a wife. Although she took small, sensible steps, she was mentally floating on air and overjoyed to be marrying the man she loved. Not a single doubt clouded her optimistic outlook.

  As the day moved on, however, harsh reality was destined to deliver a series of knockout blows to her rosy hopes for the future Within hours, her happiness would be destroyed and her trust shattered. When her bridegroom drank himself unconscious at the reception and had to be carried into the marital bedroom, only Theo Demakis was tactless enough to laugh. Hurt and humiliated beyond all bearing, Prudence suppressed all recollection of ever having thought that they might have had a real marriage because she was mortified by her na�
�vety. In spite of that common-sense attitude, the wedding night that never happened would still be the longest night of her life…

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘I CAN’T MAKE it to your party,’ Nikolos told the woman reclining on the bed, pulling on the jacket of his suit with the fluid grace that distinguished all his movements.

  ‘Please…pretty please…’ Naked but for a turquoise silk wrap, Tania Benson leapt up and curled her arms round his neck, deploying her long, rangy, supermodel body like a lethal weapon of persuasion. ‘I want you to be there.’

  ‘No strings,’ Nikolos reminded her, irritated by her persistence. Their relationship was basic and not exclusive, for they often went months without contact. He only saw Tania when he was in Paris or Brussels. To complement her position in his life, he enjoyed the company of an Icelandic blonde in New York and a sultry Russian model in London.

  The redhead pouted. ‘I’ve never asked you for a favour before.’

  Nikolos shrugged. She had not had to ask, because he was a very generous lover and she knew the score as well as he did.

  ‘You couldn’t make it last year either!’

  ‘I have another engagement.’ His tone was cool, clipped. He came and went as he pleased. Without explanation or apology. That had been the agreement and he had no desire for anything else. Certainly not the whole dating-type scenario of being shown off like some trophy tycoon at a celebrity party. It would also be indiscreet, since his appearance at a fashionable party was a virtual guarantee of photos and comment in the gossip columns. Once, Nikolos conceded grimly, he had been a lot less considerate about the level of public interest his way of life could attract.

  Furious at that flat rejection, Tania looked sulky. ‘I know what that engagement is, too…’

  His dark golden eyes became semi-veiled, the hard, dynamic cast of his darkly handsome features suddenly still and impassive. ‘The limo will be waiting.’