She left the room and went down to find him, her head high, the welcome upsurge of renewed self-confidence momentarily smothering the pain of what was happening. It lasted until she tracked him down, hearing his voice, the tone low and warmly intimate, issuing from what turned out to be the huge airy kitchen. That upsurge of self-confidence drained away as he abruptly ended a call as soon as she entered the room, closing down his mobile and slipping it into his back pocket.
‘Maddie—’
‘Dimitri—’ How she kept her voice cool, her smile pleasant, she would never know. He looked—what? Guilty? Glittering golden eyes, a faint band of colour across those sculpted cheekbones.
‘You look so much better. Pregnancy suits you!’
‘Does it? That’s nice.’ She wandered further into the room. He’d been working at the huge central table, but the much smaller one beneath one of the open windows had been laid. Plates, a bowl of crisp salad, rolls, cold chicken and a ham.
The way he’d ended what had obviously been a highly personal conversation, judging by his intimate tone, the spattering of endearments she’d recognised in his native tongue, the call ending so abruptly at her approach, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end.
‘Who were you talking to?’ She was making like a suspicious wife—but who could blame her in the dire circumstances she found herself in? ‘Irini, was it?’ Couldn’t wait to tell her the good news?’
She watched his features harden, the softness in his eyes replaced by an unhidden glint of cold anger. Noted that he didn’t answer her specific question directly. ‘I’ll never understand what you’ve got against her,’ he stated in a cool challenge. ‘Whenever she’s around you show all your prickles, close down, and when she tries to speak to you you answer in monosyllables. It upsets her. She would like to be your friend. And believe me, Maddie, she needs friends.’
So protective of the woman he loved. Her cheeks burning, she could have ripped her tongue out. She would have to watch what she said in future, especially when it concerned that woman!
She could tell him exactly what she held against Irini. Starting with that hateful conversation at that first party, when she’d told her her days as Dimitri’s wife were numbered, and why. But doing so now would put him on his guard, put her plans to leave him in jeopardy. Unfortunately, the time for coming out into the open was past.
So she simply shrugged, essayed a smile, and told him, ‘Sorry, I’ll try harder. She’s just not my cup of tea, and we’ve nothing in common. But, I don’t think we should quarrel about it, do you?’
Dimitri expelled a slow breath. He felt something warm enfold his heart, banish irritation. Did she know how adorable she looked? How the band of freckles across her pretty nose moved him to an unbearable tenderness? An almost painful hunger gripped him in a vice as he met those clear blue fathomless eyes, his heart turning over and swelling within him. Maddie, his wife, was carrying his child. Nothing would put that child at risk.
Nothing! For the sake of his child, for his child’s future happiness and security, with two parents in apparent harmony with each other, he would wipe her rejection of him from his mind. Forget it. Try to make their marriage work. And to do that, to forget what she had done and why, it must never be spoken of. That he was determined on.
He extended his hand towards her. ‘Come and eat.’ He waited, his shoulders relaxing when, after a tension-filled moment, she gave him her hand. A ghost of a frown darkened his brow as, slightly ahead of her, he led her towards the small table beneath the window. It seemed as though she was falling in with his earlier stated wishes. Making a fresh start, burying the past, wiping the word divorce from her vocabulary.
Why? Should it matter? He knew his reasons, knew they were sound. Was the news of her pregnancy her reason? Had it settled her, made her earlier behaviour appear as the nonsense it was? Or had his promise that she would want for nothing, that whatever her heart desired would be hers, been the deciding factor?
The former, he devoutly hoped. Until she’d left him for no good reason that he’d been able to come up with apart from a fat divorce settlement, he would have said she didn’t possess an avaricious bone in her body. And yet how could he know what went on inside that lovely head of hers?
The time was past when he could have done what he’d brought her here to do—insist that she reveal her true motivations behind her desire for a divorce. Such an insistence would be counter-productive in the new regime he’d set up. No arguments about that!
No looking back.
Slate wiped clean.
Fresh start.
Seeing her seated, he helped her to a little of everything on the table, slid the plate in front of her and sat opposite, his own appetite—roused and ravaging after the news that he was to be a father—completely gone. Was it pride that kept him from acknowledging that he wanted her to stay with him, make their marriage work, because he was important to her?
He refused to dwell on that possibility. She had wronged him, shamed him, but he was now prepared to overlook that. And whatever her reasons for her seeming compliance to his wishes it was a step in the right direction—a step towards what he must have: a stable relationship for the sake of their unborn child.
He had endured a cold and loveless childhood following the deaths of his parents when he’d been too young to properly remember them, so he was determined that his child would be surrounded by the permanence of parental love.
And no way would a child of his suffer the trauma of a broken home, a marriage gone wrong, with all the attendant recriminations and back-biting, the divided loyalties that would torment any child shunted between two bitter parents.
Watching her eat a little of the food and push the remainder around her plate, he wondered how far her compliance with his wishes would take her.
As far as the marriage bed?
And did he really want that?
The answer, he knew, to his annoyance, was yes. Despite her past behaviour, the shaming of his honour, he wanted her. Even more than when he’d first encountered her in Cristos’s courtyard.
And that was saying something!
CHAPTER EIGHT
DIMITRI rose from the table as if propelled by a rocket, pushed back his chair and, sounding almost painfully polite, said, ‘You must rest this afternoon, Maddie. I insist. It has been a traumatic morning.’ One dark brow elevated as she stubbornly remained seated. His mouth flattened. ‘Come, I will see you to your room.’
Leaving her barely touched meal, Maddie got to her feet with extreme reluctance. An hour or two of solitude, the opportunity to at least try to relax and consider her situation calmly, had its glaringly obvious advantages. But, perversely, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her meekly fall in with all his orders. He had managed to demean her until she felt lower than the ground she walked on. Was she to have no pride left whatsoever?
Suddenly her legs felt horribly unsteady. He was spot-on about this morning’s trauma. And every bit of it was his fault!
It had started with his humiliation of her and come to a dramatic crescendo with the news of her pregnancy. So a short rest, the brief and blessed oblivion of sleep, seemed like the best idea she’d heard in a long while. And if he smugly assumed she was falling in with his wishes it couldn’t be helped.
‘I’m sure I will be all right on my own,’ she was forced to point out, not wanting him anywhere near her, because he was no longer her dearest love, he was her enemy. Her pregnancy had rammed that reality home as nothing else could have done. Muttering vociferously, he ignored her statement of independence, swept her up into his arms and headed for the staircase.
‘Put me down! I’m not an invalid! I can manage!’
‘I’m sure you can. But while I am with you, you don’t have to.’
He knew he sounded cold. Could do nothing about it. He could barely trust himself to speak. Watching her across that table, he’d been hit by the usual upsurge of savage h
unger that always afflicted him in her presence—had done ever since he’d first set eyes on her for the first time. The wanting was strong enough to cause actual physical hurt, leading inevitably to the thought of the marriage bed.
But he knew that resuming those mind-shattering pleasures was out of the question until things were calmer between them and he could begin to forgive himself for the earlier humiliation he’d dealt her, which now severely appalled him.
Whatever her reasons for wanting out of their marriage—and he no longer wished to know them because the future was all that mattered—she didn’t deserve that type of treatment.
He hoisted her body closer to the hard strength of his and effortlessly mounted the stairs, while Maddie desperately tried to stop the tears that stung the back of her eyes from falling. Held this close to him, to the man she had adored with everything in her, was torture. Worse than torture. Because her body was letting her down again, responding wholeheartedly to him even as what little was left of her brain told her all she wanted to do was punch him!
Wicked, treacherous heat flared deep inside her as he shouldered through the door to the master bedroom and slid her to her feet at the side of the massive bed. He was still so close, too close. He was so magnificent, so unfairly sexy, full of careless masculinity. It was as if his body was a silent call to her—a call which drew an immediate response from her soul, from a loving heart her logical mind was unable to control.
Maddie turned swiftly, caught between the edge of the bed and his superbly powerful frame. A smothered sob snagged her throat as blistering heat gathered deep inside her and made her heart flip over.
She despised herself for her body’s unmanageable response to him. She knew what he was. Cruel enough to make her love him and then toss that love back in her face as if it were something of no value whatsoever. So why did she crave him like a forbidden drug? She would never have described herself as weak, lacking will power, but she obviously was, and the knowledge flayed her.
As if sensing her distress, he stepped away from her, his strong jaw set, golden eyes uncompromisingly grim as he told her, ‘Rest now. I shall be working in the study at the far end of the old wing should you need me. And, Maddie—’ His voice faltered momentarily, then incised on. ‘Please accept my apologies for my earlier despicable behaviour. Such a thing will never happen again, I promise on my life. I quite understand why you felt the need to run from the house. From me.’
Turning with his inherent grace, he left the room. Stunned, Maddie plopped down on the bed and just sat there. Shaking.
The arrogant, domineering Greek male had actually apologised! The moon must have turned blue and she hadn’t noticed!
Unused to putting a foot wrong in his world-spanning business dealings, or in his relationships with friends and colleagues, he had actually admitted being in the wrong. Why? Unaccustomed humility? Or an integral part of his cynical kiss-and-make-up scenario?
But there wouldn’t be any kissing, would there?
She was safely pregnant. There was no longer any need for him to grit his teeth, take her to bed and think of Irini!
Curling up on the tumbled sheets, she buried her face in a pillow and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep, wondering why that obvious conclusion didn’t bring her the deep relief it should.
It was cooler when she woke. The searing midday heat had been replaced by a soft, balmy warmth that drifted through the open windows, fluttering the delicate muslin drapes. Her eyes felt gritty, her mouth parched, her brain fuzzy. She would have to freshen up, she decided vaguely. Get out of the dress she’d fallen asleep in, move herself. Then the hateful reality of her situation hit her like a sledgehammer and enfolded her.
Staunchly telling herself that she was going to have to get used to it or lose her sanity, she firmed her soft mouth and swung her feet to the floor, her eyes lighting on the jug of orange juice and the single tall crystal glass on the bedside table.
Dimitri? Had to be. Schooling the sudden and unwelcome mush out of her heart and replacing it with cold reality was easy. He hadn’t provided the freshly squeezed juice because he cared about her. He cared about the welfare of the coming baby. He would cosset her, wrap her in cotton wool until her child was born. Then get rid of her.
She would take his plans and reduce them to ashes. Even if it did mean having to grit her teeth and play him at his own devious game for a few more weeks.
She hated him! Nevertheless, she poured and drank gratefully, noting that the ice cubes hadn’t begun to melt. So he must have come to the room in the past few minutes. Was that what had woken her? Was she that aware of him, attuned to him, even in sleep?
It was a shattering thought. She didn’t want it to be like that. She had to learn to be indifferent to him. Had to.
Starting with doing her own thing.
Hoping he’d gone back to his study and intended to stay there, she stripped off the now crumpled and wilted sundress she’d put on for the doctor’s arrival and got into a sleek white one-piece swimsuit, bemoaning the fact that, sleek as it might be, it did nothing to disguise the curve of her breasts and well-rounded hips.
Not for the first time she wondered how he could have brought himself to make love to her, preferring, as he obviously did, the ultra-sophisticated stick-insect type such as his beloved Irini.
Dimitri had mentioned a swimming pool, so she was going to find it and enjoy the cool waters and continue the long haul of not only acting but actually being indifferent to him. To knock firmly on the head the sneaky wish that her husband truly loved her, only her, and that their time here in romantic seclusion really was a belated honeymoon.
In a hollow beyond a sweeping stone terrace lay the immense oval pool, surrounded by slender cypress trees, blue water lazy, limpid, inviting.
The gentle breeze caressed her exposed skin, carrying the scents of sea, dried grasses and aromatic herbs. Dropping the fluffy jade-green towel she’d brought with her onto the cool marble surround, Maddie took a deep breath and dived in at the deep end, determined to forget her situation and the shameful fact that she’d been too stupid to smell a rat when the super-eligible Dimitri Kouvaris, charismatic and absolutely gorgeous, and a millionaire many times over, had proposed marriage to an insignificant grubber-around-in-the-soil-nobody like her, after such a remarkably short acquaintance.
She would relax, do a few gentle lengths, empty her mind to everything but the perfection of the early evening, the soft caress of the water, and find tranquility—because bad thoughts and a brain that was in knots couldn’t be good for the baby inside her.
And she was doing just fine in that respect when a splash at the opposite end of the pool, the deep end, had her feet finding the bottom in a flurry, her eyes widening, sparking blue fire, as Dimitri scythed through the water towards her in a powerful crawl.
Did he have to spoil everything? Even her relaxing half hour in the swimming pool—not to mention her whole life!
With water lapping her waist she was too stricken to move until he got close. Then, galvanised, she hauled herself out of the pool in a shower of water droplets and headed like a bullet to where she’d left the towel.
But he was there before her, blocking her way. Thankfully, she was able to keep her instinctive groan internal as his honeyed drawl sent shivers right down to her toes. She wanted to drag her eyes from him but couldn’t as he said, ‘Slow down! Honeymoons on secluded Greek islands are meant to be slow and lazy. Relaxed. I will help you to learn that much.’
Her toes curled in reaction to his nearness, to the bronzed body glistening with moisture, tempting her to touch and go on touching, to slide her hands over the muscular strength of his chest, the skin like oiled silk and just as sensuous. Her fingers would glide lower, over the washboard-flat stomach, to the top of the black briefs that did nothing at all to modestly disguise his manhood—
Smartly clasping her hands behind her back to stop them straying of their own volition, she countered on a rasp
of breath, and with no pretence of the rapprochement he’d earlier suggested, ‘I was perfectly relaxed until you showed up!’
She bent to retrieve the towel and cover herself up, because he was no one’s fool and would have no trouble working out why her wretched breasts were pushing at the clinging fabric of her swimsuit as if hedonistically eager for the touch of his hands, his mouth.
But he stayed her before she could reach her objective, strong, finely made hands on her shoulders as he brought her upright, moving in closer as he reminded her grittily, ‘I am not your enemy. I am your husband. And I want you so much it hurts.’
Shaken by that admission, she allowed her eyes to meet his. His hands on her naked shoulders sent electrifying shivers down her spine. His eyes were hot gold, burning into her where they touched—her shamefully peaking breasts, the quivering curve of her tummy, and lower, making her shift her feet, part her thighs with blatant invitation and no conscious thought whatsoever.
She jerked in a ragged breath as his hands slid slowly down from her shoulders to fasten around her slender waist and pull her with aching deliberation against him. He hadn’t been lying, was her almost incoherent thought. The state of his arousal left her in no doubt as to the truth of his gritty statement.
Unable to decide what she was thinking, she felt terrifyingly vulnerable, torn between the conflicting need to distance herself from him in every way there was and wanting her charismatic, once-adored husband just as much as she ever had.
The deed was done. She was pregnant. So why should he still want her sexually? She had expected a spurious kindness—not for her sake, but for his child’s. But this? ‘We are not enemies. What we once had was beautiful. We can and will reclaim it,’ Dimitri reiterated rawly. ‘Between us we have made a baby, have created a new life. The future can be golden, chrysi mou, if you will let it be. You still want me—as I need you—I am ready and willing to forget the immediate past, and I hope you are, too.’
The Kouvaris Marriage Page 9