by Annie West
How long could she hide her feelings? It was a wonder he hadn’t guessed. Every time they made love her passion held a dimension she knew was reserved solely for him.
Even the knowledge he still loved his wife and could never care for Amelie in that way hadn’t changed her feelings. If anything, in the past days her love had strengthened, even as she told herself she needed to pull back.
But how could she when she craved his touch? When he was tender and gentle, passionate and demanding in ways that attuned so perfectly to her own needs? How could she when she understood his hurt and wanted to wrap him in her love, bringing him what solace she could, even knowing she couldn’t heal him?
‘I think so.’
‘You don’t sound sure. What can I do to help?’
Amelie turned in his embrace, delighting in this closeness, aware this must end soon. She had to make the break, though it seemed sometimes as if Lambis needed her as much as she needed him. His loving was so intense, so hungry... Which, she realised, was simply wishful thinking.
His grey eyes surveyed her seriously. He would help if he could. Without even knowing what that might involve.
What would he say if she admitted she loved him and what she needed was for him to let go of the past and love her?
Amelie sank against his chest, unable to resist temptation, and smiled, a tight, hard little smile as he pulled her close, one sinewy arm wrapped around her back and the other palming her hair in a familiar caress.
‘Nothing. Everything’s fine, Lambis.’
It scared her how adept she’d become at lying.
* * *
He should be working. Lambis felt the restlessness of a man who habitually devoted all his energies to business, yet who suddenly found himself distracted, neglecting his routine.
Yet, as his managers assured him, business was booming and, because of the structures and excellent staff he’d introduced, his company ran almost autonomously without micromanagement. Which meant he could take time out.
Face it. The business is all but running itself. You’re just looking for an excuse not to be here.
Here being the ancient olive grove on the hill behind the villa, watching Amelie, in another of those wispy sarongs, and Sébastien explore the stony ground, intent on some insect they’d discovered.
The restlessness wasn’t because Lambis wanted to be at his desk or on the phone. It was because Amelie and Sébastien had become integral to his days. Lambis found himself deciding certain matters he’d always handled could be delegated. He spent more time out of his office and even when he worked his thoughts turned to them—Sébastien, whose reserve was gradually disappearing, and Amelie. Above all, Amelie.
Lambis shifted his shoulders against the wide trunk of an old tree where he sat amongst the debris of their picnic.
His eyes narrowed on the remarkable woman who was as much at home in a filmy blue sarong and bare feet as she was in a full-length gown and tiara. Amelie couldn’t be pigeonholed and she continued to surprise him. It had been days since he’d mentioned that he’d had a wife and child but Amelie hadn’t once prodded for more details. She’d accepted the information with characteristic compassion but there’d been no interrogation.
Strangely, as the days passed, and the precious nights when Amelie shared herself ardently, making him feel more alive than he had in years, Lambis almost wished she’d ask.
He couldn’t fathom it. He never talked about Dimitri and Delia. Ever.
Yet with Amelie more than once he’d been on the verge of talking about them. Like now as she stumbled her way through an old Greek rhyme Irini must have taught Sébastien. The boy was teaching Amelie and they giggled over her mistakes.
The rhyme, the laughter, the balmy air of the old orchard, reminded him of a day he’d forgotten till now, of Delia with Dimitri chanting the same rhyme.
Instinctively Lambis braced for the lancing agony that accompanied such memories. Instead, to his surprise, there was poignant sadness but it was swamped by gratitude that he had that memory. Gratitude for the years he’d had with them both.
Lambis’s mouth firmed to a hard line. It wasn’t right. He didn’t deserve not to feel pain. It was because of him—
‘Lambis.’ Amelie’s voice broke through his thoughts and he looked up to see her and Sébastien approaching, hand in hand. For a second, looking into the light, he couldn’t make out her blonde hair. She could have been another woman, straight dark hair down around her shoulders, and a wide smile filling his heart with joy.
Lambis’s breath caught. Then Amelie and Sébastien were standing before him and his vision cleared. Yet his lungs wouldn’t work and guilt smote deep in his chest, cleaving right down to his belly.
What was she doing to his memories of Delia?
What was he doing to them?
He surged to his feet, heart thundering. It was only as Sébastien stared up in consternation that he realised how abruptly he’d moved. Tentatively he reached down and rumpled the kid’s hair. But it was beyond him to force a smile.
‘Sorry,’ he said, his voice rougher than intended. ‘I missed what you said.’
Amelie’s smile had a fixed quality that told him he hadn’t concealed his turmoil. Deliberately he wiped his face clear, an art he’d perfected not just in his years as a bodyguard, but as a man grieving the loss of everything that had made his life worth living.
‘It’s not important. It was just a bit of nonsense that can wait.’ She glanced down at her nephew then back to him, her fine, arched eyebrows flattening. ‘What’s important is that Seb and I were talking about keeping up his Greek. I told him you’d help him with that in future. He’ll always be able to count on you, like he can count on me. Right?’
Lambis knew what he had to say, what the boy needed to hear. Yet the idea of the lad counting on him turned that ache in his belly into a sharp slash of pain that threatened to undo him.
He cleared his throat but the words stuck in his throat. The worst thing the boy could do was count on him. That knowledge ate at Lambis.
He heaved a deep breath and nodded, planting his hand on Sébastien’s shoulder. ‘Of course you can. I’m your godfather after all.’ He gave the bony little shoulder a gentle squeeze then stepped away.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. There’s something I need to attend to.’ Not meeting Amelie’s eyes, he turned and marched back to the house. All the way his conscience, what was left of it, tormented him. It was dangerous to let the child think Lambis would be around to protect him. But what else could he have done?
He could only hope once Sébastien grew up, under the nurturing care of his aunt, he’d never need Lambis again.
* * *
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘Talk about what?’ Lambis realised too late he shouldn’t have agreed to this moonlit stroll by the sea with Amelie.
All evening she’d watched him, masking her scrutiny with smiles and light conversation. But he knew he’d worried her today. She’d been trying to allay Sébastien’s fears about being left alone by reassuring him that she and Lambis would always support him. Lambis had done a poor job, though he’d done his best.
A spark of gallows humour flared. Since when had his best been good enough?
‘About whatever’s hurting you.’ She didn’t look at him, but kept up a steady pace as they walked the curve of the beach. ‘Something is wrong. I want to help.’
‘There’s nothing anyone can do to help.’
He saw her face swing round and realised he’d just confirmed her suspicions.
‘Sometimes talking can ease the burden.’
His mouth tightened. Nothing could ease what he felt, nor should it. Yet Amelie deserved to know, for didn’t she look to him to support Sébastien? He couldn’t let her raise unrealistic expectations.
‘You told your nephew he could count on me.’ That awful metallic taste was back in his mouth. ‘But it’s better not to let him think I’l
l be around to protect him.’
Her steps faltered. ‘You’re planning on deserting him?’
Lambis shook his head. ‘No. But neither of you should rely on me. It’s not wise.’
* * *
Not wise? It was too late to be wise where Lambis was concerned.
Amelie stopped as he turned to face the moonlit sea. How could she and Seb pull back now? They cared for and, yes, relied on him. Had she done wrong, bringing Seb here?
‘I’m not good at protecting people.’ A laugh emerged, but it sounded hard, a thing of pain, not humour. ‘Ironic, isn’t it, for a man who runs a security firm?’
Amelie stood silent, waiting.
‘I can organise protection for complete strangers, but when it’s people I care for...’ His words trailed off and in the silvery light she saw his jaw tighten. ‘I should have been able to protect Irini. I should have. I’d just done a security audit for the palace, after all.’
‘You couldn’t have saved her. You weren’t even there.’
Lambis swung round to face her. ‘But I’d seen the way your brother drove his previous boat and I knew about the powerful new racing one he’d ordered. He was good, but not that good. It was beyond his capabilities. I warned him that he needed proper training from a professional before using it.’
‘I didn’t know.’ Amelie was stunned. Lambis was right about Michel at the wheel of a boat. He’d loved speed, loved cutting a course fine. ‘But he’d never take risks with Irini!’
Lambis seemed not to hear. ‘I think he took my advice as an insult. He certainly didn’t thank me for it.’
Amelie could imagine that. ‘He’d spent all his life being told how to behave by older men. Even when he became King our Prime Minister tried to shackle him.’ And Michel had been headstrong, a little impatient. But not reckless.
‘I told Irini not to go out with him till he had some instruction. I should have made her promise. I should have made him see.’ Lambis’s voice was taut with regret, making Amelie remember her sister-in-law’s hesitation to go out that day. Had she been recalling Lambis’s advice?
‘No one forced Irini to go with him.’ Amelie stepped in front of Lambis. He refused to look at her. ‘It was her decision. They were two adults and you had no way of stopping them.’ She touched his hand, sliding her fingers through his and curling them tight. ‘I saw them that day. He was going fast, but not recklessly. It was an accident. It’s not your fault.’
Lambis shook his head, his features grim.
Amelie tugged at his hand. ‘Michel adored her. He would never endanger Irini. It was an accident.’
But her words, instead of soothing, seemed to inflame. His fingers returned her grip with a strength that made hers tingle. His mouth flattened into a harsh slash.
‘Lambis?’
Finally his gaze lowered. Even in the moonlight his pain was clear. So clear it jammed her breath tight in her lungs.
‘I know what I’m talking about, Amelie. Love is no protection. I loved my wife and son. But they’re dead because of me.’
Amelie heard her breath hiss at the self-hatred in his voice, at the bitter twist of his mouth and, above all, the hurt in his eyes.
‘I can’t believe you did anything to endanger them, Lambis.’
It was true. The man she knew was strong, honourable, with a protective streak a mile wide. That protective instinct had overcome his need for solitude and his aversion to spending time with Seb. An aversion, she now guessed, that had nothing to do with Seb, but with Lambis’s grief for his son. The way Lambis and Seb interacted now proved Lambis was a man with a profound capacity for caring. He was generous and gentle, and—
‘Believe what you like. But it’s true. Those close to me suffer.’ His mouth twisted. ‘In the old days they’d have said I was bad luck from the first, since my mother died giving birth to me.’
‘What utter nonsense!’ Amelie clutched both his hands, anger welling. ‘That wasn’t your fault.’
He shrugged. ‘Delia and Dimitri, they were my fault.’
Delia and Dimitri. She hadn’t heard their names before. ‘What were they like?’ she whispered.
Lambis’s mouth turned up in a crooked smile. ‘I fell in love with Delia when I was sixteen but we waited to marry until we had some money behind us.’ His gaze took on a faraway look but Amelie guessed he wasn’t seeing the silvered bay over her shoulder.
‘Delia had a laugh that always made those around her smile and she had a kind word for everyone. Dimitri looked just like her—straight black hair, dark, merry eyes and that grin... He’d hare around the place at top speed, so full of energy.’
‘He sounds like a lovely little boy.’ And so like Seb had been before the accident—full of life and laughter. As for Delia, Amelie felt her heart hammer in sympathy for Lambis. Clearly he’d been head over heels in love with his wife. To Amelie’s shame there was also possibly a tinge of jealousy. Because Lambis would never talk of her with such love in his voice.
What was it like to be so loved? Not for your position or title but for yourself? Loved by Lambis Evangelos, a man who committed himself totally and unswervingly to whatever he did?
Mentally Amelie gave herself a shake. This wasn’t about her; it was about Lambis and the family that had been ripped from him. She squeezed his hands, sliding her thumbs over his, hoping the unspoken contact might ease just a tiny fraction of his grief.
‘What happened to them?’
She felt a shudder pass through him, saw his jaw tighten. In the dark he looked like some carved sentinel, forbidding yet so boldly alluring it was impossible to look away from him.
‘It was winter and we were staying in the mountains. There was a problem with a big new contract and I took the helicopter to Athens for a meeting.’ He shook his head. ‘I should never have gone. I had staff who could deal with it but I was so used to taking all the major decisions myself, managing every aspect of the business as it expanded...’
The raspy cadence of his voice tore at Amelie. She felt his desolation with a strength that only someone who’d experienced grief could understand.
‘What we didn’t know was that Dimitri was severely allergic to nuts. Anna said later that he went into anaphylactic shock. It would take too long for medical help so Delia bundled him into the car while Anna made the emergency calls. But Delia’s car was at the mechanic’s and there was only mine in the garage. She wasn’t used to driving such a powerful vehicle, especially in snow.’
He pulled his hands from Amelie’s as if he couldn’t bear to be touched and Amelie felt part of her own heart crumble at his distress.
‘They went off the side of the mountain road on a bend.’ He paused, his breath labouring. ‘The authorities said it would have been quick, almost instantaneous.’
‘Oh, Lambis!’ Amelie reached for him, then stopped herself. Clearly he didn’t want to be touched. ‘I’m so very sorry. That was such a tragic thing to happen.’
‘And avoidable.’ His voice reminded her of broken glass. Or maybe it was the tightness in her own throat as she tried to swallow. ‘Worse, it was my fault. Persuading Delia to live in such an isolated spot, just because my family had once lived there. Leaving them both alone instead of letting someone else handle the meeting.’
‘You weren’t to know that. You’re not to blame, Lambis. No one knew about your son’s allergy.’
He shook his head. ‘I should have been there. If I’d been there with the chopper, things would have been different.’
‘Everyone feels like that after a tragedy, but you’re not to blame. No one could have known what would happen that day.’ She paused, but he didn’t seem to hear her. Amelie grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t you think I’ve thought again and again of how different things would have been if I’d suggested to Michel that he not take the boat out but spend the afternoon ashore instead?’
Lambis didn’t respond. ‘You can’t keep thinking that way, Lambis. You’ll go crazy.’
‘Don’t you see? They were my responsibility and I failed them. Just as I failed Irini.’
His utter implacability scared her. And angered her. ‘You’re not God, you’re not omnipotent! You’re just a man, Lambis, and you can’t blame yourself for things that are totally out of your control.’ She shook his arm, till he looked down at her. ‘All you can do is pick up the pieces and move on as best you can. Anyone who loved you, like your wife did, would be horrified to think of you racked with guilt for something that wasn’t your responsibility.’
Still no reaction from him. It shredded her heart, seeing him like this and being unable to reach him. She let go her hold and stepped back.
‘Wallowing in the past is easier than facing the present or the future. It’s self-indulgent, Lambis, especially when there are people who need you now.’ Like Seb. And her. ‘Do you really think Delia would want to see you like this? Anyone who loved life the way you say she did, would expect you to move on and keep living.’
Had she gone too far, invoking his wife’s name? Yet Amelie had to try. The sight of Lambis bound in that tight web of guilt, unable to move on, unable to do anything but blame himself, was heart-wrenching.
Finally, when he remained silent, she withdrew her hand, to walk silent and alone to the house.
She had her answers. To why Lambis cut himself off. Why he’d avoided Seb, and rejected her. He had no room in his heart to love again.
Yet surely it was something close to love she’d seen as he interacted with Seb? Or maybe that was just a shadow of what he’d felt for his son.
As for coming to love her... She had a better chance of flying to the moon than seeing him turn to her with love in his eyes.
* * *
‘Amelie?’ Lambis’s voice reached her across the gloom of his bedroom.
She shifted, leaning up on one elbow to watch him stride across the room and plant his feet beside the bed they’d shared for the last couple of weeks.
‘I didn’t think you’d be here.’ She heard something in his tone that made everything in her still. Surprise, hesitance and...hope. It was the last that gave her courage. After all, her first instinct had been to sleep in her guest bedroom. Yet she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him, even though she’d given him solitude on the beach.