by Lynne Graham
‘You look ravishing,’ Atreus told her in a roughened undertone when she drew level with him.
It was the most personal thing he had said to her in weeks, and her bosom swelled with pride. He held her hand, his thumb gently caressing the soft inner skin of her wrist, and while little quivers of growing awareness rippled through her body, her brain tossed out the doom-laden thoughts that had been tormenting her.
The ring on her wedding finger, Lindy accompanied Atreus back down the aisle, a buoyant sense of contentment powering her. They would be great together, she promised herself, and she would work so hard at their marriage. She would be a brilliant wife in every way possible.
Those uplifting ambitions shrieked to a sudden forced halt outside when Lindy, watching as the Dionides security team went toe-to-toe with the paparazzi, noticed an unexpected face in the crush. Eyes widening, she stared at Krista Perris, sheathed in a body-hugging bright scarlet dress and with a tiny feathered fascinator on her blonde head that was the last word in cute frivolity. She looked dazzling, and all the men in her vicinity were sucking in their stomachs and straightening their shoulders in the hope of attracting her attention.
As Lindy slid into the wedding limo, she wasted no time in venting her annoyance. ‘What’s Krista Perris doing here?’ she demanded.
Atreus frowned. ‘Why shouldn’t she be here? My family and hers have been friendly for many years.’
‘I didn’t realise that,’ Lindy admitted gruffly, already regretting her revealing outburst.
‘It would have been unthinkable to remove her name from the guest list, but I’m surprised she decided to attend,’ Atreus commented, turning his handsome dark head to take another look at the diminutive blonde, his bold bronzed profile clenching taut. ‘She looks very well.’
That was all Atreus had to say to put Lindy’s nose out of joint, and Lindy was unable to suppress the thought that it was her wedding, her day, and that Krista Perris had probably had the joy of being eye-catching, beautiful and the centre of attention every day of her entire life. Although resenting Krista’s presence made Lindy feel like a mean, jealous cat, she couldn’t help feeling insecure and threatened. She reckoned that Atreus was to blame for her feelings by not being more frank with her—until it occurred to her that she would have felt a great deal worse had he told her that he was in love with Krista. His honesty, she conceded heavily, would only be welcome if he was able to tell her exactly what she wanted to hear. And that comforting conclusion seemed unlikely when she recognised his tension at the slightest reminder of the other woman.
At the reception, held at an exclusive hotel, Lindy caught hold of her little flower girl, Alissa and Sergei’s daughter Evelina, before she could run in front of a waiter laden with a tray of glasses. She then paused to check her hair in a huge gilt wall mirror.
‘You look pretty,’ Evelina piped.
‘Thank you,’ Lindy was saying with a smile when, without warning, another face joined hers in the reflection and made her stiffen in sharp disconcertion.
It was Krista Perris, flamboyant as a flame in her red dress and fascinator, a silken swathe of blonde hair framing her intent face as she stared back at Lindy with malicious eyes. ‘You’re the wrong bride,’ she pronounced softly. ‘And Atreus and everyone here knows it. He’ll never stay with you.’
A split second later Krista had moved on, leaving Lindy temporarily unsure that her cool and derisive indictment had actually been said out loud. But the proof was in the hair which had risen at the nape of her neck and the gooseflesh on her bare arms.
The wrong bride. It was a label that hit Lindy hard. Even so, she hadn’t been able to prevent the same thought from occurring to her when she first laid eyes on Krista, whose smooth sophistication and social assurance acted as a perfect mirror for Atreus’s own.
Of course Krista hated her, Lindy reasoned, while the speeches were being made and her mind was free to drift. Guilt was biting deeply into Lindy. Krista and Atreus had been seeing each other and, whether she liked it or not, their relationship had become serious enough for Atreus to consider marriage. Then out of the blue had come the revelation that Atreus had an ex-mistress, pregnant with his child, and Krista’s romance had crashed in flames. Naturally Krista was bitter. She must have been hurt, Lindy reflected uneasily, her conscience stinging at the knowledge that her decision not to tell Atreus about her pregnancy was responsible for his breaking up with Krista. How must Krista feel, witnessing Atreus’s marriage to another woman when only a couple of months ago Atreus had been Krista’s lover?
Lindy had tried not to think about that fact since Theo’s birth. Atreus had made it very clear that he had no wish to talk about Krista, and Lindy had felt obligated to respect that embargo. It was not so easy to stay silent now, at her wedding, where she could see that the Dionides family and the Perris family were close friends and that a marriage between Atreus and Krista would have been hugely popular.
Be grateful for what you have, not what you don’t have, Lindy scolded herself while Atreus whirled her round the floor in the opening dance. But she could not forget the fact that when Atreus had had a free choice he had relegated her to the background of his life and kept her a secret. He had never pictured her in the starring role of bride, or as the mother of his son. In the end fate had refused him that freedom of choice.
Later, Lindy watched while Atreus took Krista onto the dance floor. She noticed heads turning in the direction of that spectacle, and heard a buzz of comment spread round the room. She was watching them too, her heart in her mouth while she struggled to repress a dangerous mixture of curiosity, jealousy and insecurity. Atreus and Krista talked easily, Krista smiling up at him, laughing and flirting with every look and every flick of her long, glossy hair.
‘Stop it,’ Elinor whispered, leaning closer to Lindy to admonish her friend. ‘I can see you torturing yourself and it’s silly. If he had genuinely cared about Krista he would never have married you.’
‘I don’t think I can make that assumption. Atreus was so determined to do the very best he could for his child. Even before he was born Theo made the scales weigh heavily in my favour,’ Lindy shared ruefully. ‘Did you see how Atreus’s family greeted Krista? Like she was a long-lost daughter.’
‘I also saw the women of the family hanging admiringly over Theo when his nanny appeared with him. He’s the next generation, and I’d say he’s done a very successful job of breaking the ice.’
The ice-breaker was cradled in her arms, black lashes down, like silk fans on his little sleeping face, and Lindy dropped a kiss on her son’s satin-smooth brow. When she returned to watching her husband she noticed that the smiles Atreus and Krista had worn had ebbed, and that an intent and serious conversation now appeared to be taking place between them. She quickly looked away again and told herself off very firmly. She was letting nerves and insecurity spoil her wedding day.
Lindy would not let herself mention Krista again. She had not been unaware of Atreus’s air of reproof when she had mentioned the heiress earlier that day. After all, she was the wife. Krista was a former girlfriend, and the decent, mature thing to do would be to overlook Krista’s nasty comment and be generous. Any desires in that direction, however, were slaughtered by the taunting glance of satisfaction that Krista sent Lindy after she persuaded Atreus to stay with her for a second dance.
Late that night Atreus and Lindy flew by private jet to Greece, with Sausage and Samson travelling with them on pet passports. Lindy was exhausted and slept for much of the flight, wakening more refreshed for the final stage of their journey. They were heading for Thrazos, the private island which Atreus freely admitted was his favourite place in the world. She had not been fit enough to make the trip after Theo’s birth, so Atreus had suggested that they spend their honeymoon there.
When they reached the house on Thrazos Lindy could see very little in the darkness. Somewhere down the hill she could see the sea glimmering in the moonlight as they walked fr
om the helipad onto the terrace surrounding the well-lit villa. Atreus handed Theo to his nanny, and a housekeeper took charge to show them into the nursery.
‘Oh, this is lovely,’ Lindy commented, having strolled into a big room with natural stone walls and a relaxing décor of chunky wood furniture and pale draperies. Deep windows overlooked the grounds.
‘Barring emergencies, we should be able to stay here for about six weeks, mali mou,’ Atreus informed her, a brilliant smile curving his mouth as she spun round in surprise. ‘Yes, that’s why I worked day after day after day last month—so that we could enjoy the longest possible break here on the island.’
‘I wish I’d known that. You just seemed so busy…’
‘Well, I’m not busy now, glikia mou,’ her bridegroom said huskily, pushing her hair back off her cheekbones with gentle fingers.
‘Have you brought a lot of women here?’ The question just leapt off Lindy’s tongue.
Atreus dealt her a wry look. ‘No.’
‘Krista?’ Lindy prompted, unable to control her need to know just how deeply enmeshed the Greek woman had been within Atreus’s life.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Yes, she’s been here.’
Even as a chill spread inside Lindy at that confirmation she wished she had not asked that stupid question. She shrugged a shoulder. ‘I don’t know why I asked.’
‘The only woman I want here with me now is my wife,’ Atreus intoned, lowering his handsome dark head to taste the pouting pink curve of her full mouth.
The hot, urgent taste of him was as intoxicating as the finest wine, while the pure sexual charge he emanated sent her senses leaping and dancing with eager energy. He scooped her up into his arms and strode down the corridor with her into a large airy bedroom with doors out onto the terrace. He set her down with great care on the edge of the massive bed and crouched down to remove her shoes.
And Lindy thought, though she did not want to think it, I wonder, did he sleep here with Krista? He tipped up her reddened lips and took them again with the driving hunger that never failed to set her on fire. After all, it had been so long since he had touched her. There had not been a single kiss or caress, and he had shown no sign of wanting her again until he’d looked at her in the church today. She knew that restraint had been necessary in the first weeks after Theo had been born, but they could have shared other intimacies, could at least have shared a bed occasionally. Yet Atreus, who had a remarkably healthy libido, had kept her at a distance. Why was that? What had lain behind all that uncharacteristic restraint and indifference to her womanly wiles? And as he unzipped her dress she wondered if desire for the other woman had held him back from her. Her heart sank, and the warmth and liquid heat within her faded away as shame washed over her. Was he only making love to her now because he knew she was expecting him to? Would he make comparisons? Wish that…?
In a sudden movement of frantic repudiation Lindy thrust Atreus back from her and sprang to her feet, reaching behind her to zip her dress up. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this…I just can’t!’ she gasped in stricken recoil.
His darkly handsome features clenching hard, Atreus froze. For an instant he studied her with sombre dark eyes, and then he took a pointed step back from her. Her face flamed. ‘That’s your prerogative. Kalinichta,’ he murmured without any expression at all.
Reeling in shock from what she had done, Lindy watched him stride out. Tears welled up with stinging effect and rolled down her cheeks. Why did she have to be so horribly insecure? What madness had possessed her? It was their wedding night and she didn’t want to spend it alone. What sort of a start was this to their marriage?
CHAPTER TEN
‘I SCREWED up,’ Lindy told Theo frankly.
There was a magnificent view from the deep terrace that ran the length of the villa on the seaward side. A glorious roll of orchards and lush green land ran down to the sea, which washed the white sand of the cove far below. Lindy, however, was not rejoicing in the scenery, or the beauty of the day. All her attention was pinned to her son, who was reclining in his baby seat. The little boy was kicking his feet with visibly dwindling energy. In his little blue cotton playsuit he looked extremely cute, and she smiled down at him even though she didn’t feel remotely happy just at that moment. The stupidity of her own behaviour had come home to roost; she had stuck a spoke in the wheels of her new marriage and she didn’t know what to do about it.
Three weeks had passed since their wedding night, when she had crashed and burned in jealousy, and Atreus was still sleeping in one of his own guestrooms. The only time they actually touched was when they passed Theo between them, or when Atreus believed she might be in danger of falling. The rest of the time she was as untouchable as the carrier of some noxious plague. Rejection, she had learned, didn’t motivate Atreus to try harder; it made him keep his distance.
That fact apart, the honeymoon was ironically proving an outstanding success in every other way. Atreus might be treating her like a maiden aunt who required physical support on steep paths or when boarding a boat, but he had spared no effort when it came to entertaining her. The island of Thrazos was hilly and green and ringed by beautiful deserted beaches, and Atreus had willingly shown her over every part of it. There was a fishing village at one end, with a picturesque harbour, and almost every day they set sail there on Atreus’s yacht and went off exploring.
Golden day had followed golden day, under a sky that stayed resolutely blue and unclouded. Sometimes Lindy found it stiflingly hot, and she hogged every bit of shade available, but that same heat seemed to energise Atreus. Out at sea there were breezes to cool her overheated skin, and she thoroughly enjoyed the refreshing swim stops and picnics at secluded sandy coves, so that before long her enthusiasm for sailing almost equalled his own. It infuriated her that even when so much was wrong between them Atreus betrayed not the smallest sense of awkwardness. He was polite, calm, and brilliant company, and she dreaded the evenings when she was most often alone. After dinner, when Theo was tucked up for the night, Atreus often retired to his office to work, and Lindy invariably went to bed first.
She loved the more relaxed lifestyle on the island and lived in casual clothes, only putting on a dress when the sun went down. She had dined royally on local dishes at the taverna down by the harbour. She had sat there below the plane tree on one memorable evening, watching Atreus dance a ceremonial dance with the other men in celebration of a saint’s day. The only freedom he had known growing up had been on Thrazos. His over-protective guardians had been happy to see him spend his free time here on the island. It was on Thrazos that Atreus had learned to sail, and he knew everyone in the town by name, pausing to greet people in the narrow streets and ask knowledgeably after their families.
On the yacht they also sailed to more sophisticated haunts on the island of Rhodes. Atreus had purchased a beautiful set of modern designer jewellery for Lindy in Rhodes Town, and she had shopped in the designer outlets to add to a holiday wardrobe that had turned out to be inadequate for her needs as the days passed. Theo travelled almost everywhere with them. At the end of their first week he had been baptised in a simple but moving ceremony held in the island’s church, Ag Roumeli. He was a pack-up-and-parcel baby, happy to sleep or eat anywhere and at any time without complaint, and she found him a pure joy to look after.
Lindy gazed down into her son’s big dark eyes. ‘I screwed up,’ she said again, thinking wretchedly about the wedding night which she had wrecked. ‘But your father is very slow on the uptake,’ she complained, thinking of all the loaded hints she had dropped since, not one of which had been taken up and acted on.
In an effort to redress the damage she had made several first moves: reaching for his hand, dressing in her most inviting outfits, looking, smiling, striving to flirt…all to no avail. In despair she had even steeled herself to sunbathe topless on the yacht, only to be warned, as she lay there in self-conscious embarrassment, that she was asking to get burned. Either she no longer h
ad what it took to attract Atreus, or only a grovelling apology was going to break the ice.
That evening, when Atreus had gone off to work in his office and Lindy had filled as much time as she could saying goodnight to Theo, who was usually asleep before she was even out of the nursery, she decided that it was time to be more aggressive in her tactics.
Atreus glanced up with level dark eyes full of enquiry when she appeared in the open doorway. ‘Something up?’
Lindy could feel colour burrowing up below her skin in a sunburst of heat. She brushed her damp palms shakily down over the skirt of her elegant white sundress and breathed, ‘I’m sorry about the way I behaved on our wedding night.’
Arrogant dark head lifting at an angle, Atreus lounged back in his chair and studied her with stunning golden eyes. ‘Is that a fact? If that’s true, why has it taken this long for you to do something about it?’ he countered drily.
Having had to push herself to the brink to make her approach and apology, Lindy wanted to scream in frustration. Atreus was always so contrary. He never managed to do what she expected or wanted him to do. Here she was, trying to bridge the chasm between them, while he chose to take a more hostile stance at the most inopportune moment. ‘You didn’t say anything, either,’ she pointed out helplessly.
‘It wasn’t my place or my problem. It was for you to speak to me. Something you seem to find very intimidating,’ Atreus derided. ‘Of course, you did do the exact same thing when you realised you were carrying my child.’
Dismay filled Lindy and she gave him a reproachful glance. ‘Don’t drag that in as well—that’s over and done with!’
‘No, it’s not. Not when you’re still hiding things from me. I find it hard to believe that I used to think you were so open and honest.’
‘I was very stupid on our wedding night.’ Lindy knotted her hands together as she fumbled for the right words. ‘I don’t know how to explain it you.’