by -Julia James
Hope.
He stared again at what she had written.
'In our end is our beginning.'
He set down the paper, looking up. His eyes saw far. Very far. As far as the woman he loved. Words moved on his lips. Silently. Lovingly.
I am coming to you, my beloved. am coming to you.
* * *
She came as he did. He could feel her' peak, pulse all around him, slow and deep and heavy and endless. As endless as the rush that came as his seed filled her and filled her.
He gathered her close to him, as close as his heart, enfolding her even as he finished surging within her, even as she still softly pulsed around him. His arms wrapped around her, his cheek was against hers, and he lifted her from the bed to embrace her, so close to him, so close.
A great lassitude filled him. Slackening all his limbs, loosening all his muscles. She slipped from him, her weight pressing heavy against him. Heavy and warm and soft, so soft. He pillowed his head upon her breasts and felt her stroke his hair, her fingers sifting, soothing.
Peace filled him. A peace so profound, so absolute, that it stilled him utterly as he lay there, enfolded and enfolding. His mouth formed one more soft kiss against her breast, and then sleep, sweet sleep, came at last and took him in.
For a long, long time she held him, tears seeping through her lashes.
And in the morning she was gone.
He woke, instantly knowing something was wrong. Desperately, appallingly wrong.
Janine was not there.
Like a terrible yawning chasm her absence swallowed him, devouring him. He clawed around him, as if he might feel her suddenly there, back again.
But she was gone. Gone.
Pain clutched at him.
/ thought I had her back! I thought I had her back!
Black agony sawed through him.
He forced his eyes open. Forced himself to see her absence. See her not there. Not there.
Not her, nor her bag, nor her shoes or her clothes, nor any part of her.
Nothing of her. Nothing.
The emptiness of the room was everywhere, inside him and outside him. She had left him. She had gone. He had not won her back. Could never win her back.
No hope. None.
With eyes like death he got out of bed, groping for the bathrobe that she had peeled from his body when she had taken him back—back to that paradise that came only in her arms. Only hers.
Pain scissored through him. A lifetime of pain waiting to devour him, day by day. Without her. Without Janine. The woman he loved—and could not win back.
He slid his arms down into the robe's sleeves, yanking the belt across him.
And froze.
There on the chest of drawers, propped up against the wall, was a piece of folded paper. Dread filled him. This was it, then. This was the final moment when he would see, in words, her absolute rejection of him.
He crossed the space in a second, seizing up the paper, opening it with rapid fumbling fingers. The words blurred, resolved, and blurred again.
Then cleared.
And as he read them a gratitude so profound went through him that he wanted to fall to his knees.
She had not left him.
The paper shook in his hands but the words held steady. Shining true and faithful. Filling him with the one thing he craved above all now.
Hope.
He stared again at what she had written.
'In our end is our beginning.'
He set down the paper, looking up. His eyes saw far. Very far. As far as the woman he loved. Words moved on his lips. Silently. Lovingly.
I am coming to you, my beloved. I am coming to you.
Janine eased herself over onto her stomach and sighed languorously, giving her body to the sun. In front of her the sunlight danced dazzlingly off the azure swimming pool. Beyond, slender cypresses pierced the cerulean sky.
The sound of children splashing and calling in the pool was the only noise. She felt the warmth of the sun like a blessing on her naked back.
A shadow fell over her.
'Kyria Fareham?'
She looked up, twisting her head round.
Her breath caught.
She was looking at the most devastating male she had ever seen in her life.
Sable hair feathered across a broad brow, strong and straight, with deep lines curving from it to the edges of his mouth.
His mouth—
Sculpted. That was the only word for it. With a sensuous lower lip she had to drag her eyes from, forcing herself to meet his eyes instead. Dark eyes, flecked with gold. And blazing down at her with an emotion that made her feel weak with its strength.
She felt the world shift around her, then resettle.
As if something had changed for ever.
He had asked her a question, she realised, and she must answer it. But she must be cautious. So much, so very, very much, was at stake.
'Who wants to know?' she asked softly.
That same overpowering, overwhelming emotion blazed from those dark, devastating eyes.
'The man who loves her,' answered Nikos Kiriakis. 'The man who loves her and will always love her, to the end of our days.'
He held out a hand for her and she placed hers in it. It closed over hers, warm and safe. He drew her up.
'Why did you come here?' she asked, in that same soft voice.
His eyes rested on her.
'' 'In our end is our beginning.'''
A smile parted her lips. It lit her face.
'You understood—?'
He nodded. 'Yes. When I woke to find you gone my first thought was despair. You had left me. And then...' His voice changed. 'Then I saw the note that you had left behind. "In our end is our beginning." And I knew what you were trying to tell me.'
He took a deep breath, gazing down at her. 'You wanted us to start again. To undo, unmake all that had gone before and make it again. Just you and I. Meeting, desiring, loving. Nothing else. The way it should have been.' He lowered his head, gently grazing her mouth with his. 'The way it always will be now.'
A deep, deep joy filled her. A happiness so profound it made her weak with the wonder of it. She felt the tears start in her eyes.
'Nikos. Oh, Nikos!'
He held her tight, so very tight, crushing her against him. But for a few, brief seconds only. Then, carefully, he set her back. She gazed up at him. Love blazed in her eyes.
He smiled down at her. Something moved in his eyes, blazed forth like her love, and then, with long lashes sweeping down, veiled itself.
I wonder, Kyria Fareham,' he said in a courteous voice, 'whether you might like to take a little cruise? Not far. Just along the coast. I've a villa there you might like to see.'
She tilted her head slightly. 'Does it have an infinity pool?'
'It does.'
'And wonderful sea views?'
'Indeed.'
'Sunsets?'
'Fabulous sunsets.'
'Is it very private?'
'Completely private.'
She paused a moment. 'How many bedrooms?'
A smile quirked at his mouth. 'I never bothered to count. But we,' he told her, 'shall be using only one.'
He took her hand. 'And it hasn't,' he told her, 'got twin beds.'
She slid her fingers into his.
'Sounds irresistible.'
His free hand cupped her cheek.
'Then don't resist. Don't resist anything.' The flecks of gold in his eyes burned molten. 'Especially,' he murmured, 'me.'
She felt her body melt against him.
'Never,' she answered. 'For the rest of our lives.'
'Good,' said Nikos Kiriakis. And kissed her.
As their bodies moved and fused in the dim light of the shuttered room, the cool air playing over their skin, and they took each other to that one private paradise which only they inhabited, it was as if nothing that had gone before had ever happened. It was all made new between them.
&
nbsp; And afterwards, in the peace that came only after loving, she spoke, cradled safe in his arms. At last so safe.
'It hurt so much that you could think such a thing of me. Something so vile and horrible. For the first time since Stephanos had taken me into his heart as his daughter the reality of my Greek heritage was starting to take root. And you were part of it! Part of the country I was trying to feel a part of. You had swept me away, made me feel so wonderful! I had woven such dreams about you, such longing fantasies—that you would take me back to Athens, declare your love for me to Stephanos, and we would all live happily ever after.... And then to find out, like that, what you really thought of me. Had thought of me all along.'
Her voice gave a little choke and he crushed her to him even closer, anguished at her anguish. She went on speaking, draining the poison from her.
'I couldn't bear it. Just couldn't bear it. I knew with my head that you had had every reason to think ill of me—that everything had been a hideous, terrible misunderstanding! And neither of us had realised! You talked about my relationship with Stephanos and I thought it meant you knew I was his daughter! And all along you thought I was...I was his mistress! You thought I lived off his money, that I didn't even work for a living and never had! And that wasn't true either. I mean, I did work. But not for money.'
She took a deep, shuddering breath. 'You see, when my mother died I inherited her money. She was never poor— she always had a private income—but she used her money simply to flit around on the Cote d'Azur, wasting her life away in one long, endless holiday. I vowed I would never lead such a pointless life. So I went to the opposite extreme and went to work for a Third World agency. Louise—my mother—thought I was mad, but she was glad to see the back of me. She didn't want a grown-up daughter making her look old. When I inherited her money I could work for the agency for free. And for the last three years I've been working for them abroad. It was gruelling, but so incredibly worthwhile! I chose to work abroad, in some terrible, heartbreaking places, but in the end I reached burnout. I'd just arrived back in London, feeling guilty for not having been able to cope any more, and that's when I met Stephanos.
'It was a miracle! A complete miracle! My mother had never told me about my father. Hadn't been in the least interested. And since she'd died I'd accepted—I'd had to accept!—that I'd never, ever know. But Stephanos—he simply took me to him. Took me into his life, into his heart. Without question. And him being rich was another miracle. He's settled so much money on me that I can support the aid agency I used to work for so much better than I could before. But...' She hesistated, then went on. 'But I know that the life I led sheltered me from...from men. The kind of men that Louise surrounded herself with. Rich and glamorous. Like you.' She closed her eyes. 'I didn't want to be tempted by you. But I was. I couldn't resist you. I just couldn't! So—so I gave in to you. I fell for you totally. Completely. Then...then when Stephanos arrived it was like a nightmare. And I felt...I felt I was being punished— rightfully—for having been such a prize idiot as to fall for a man like you.'
She gave a long, shuddering sigh. 'I hated you. I hated you for thinking such vile things about me—that I was Stephanos's mistress—the kind of woman my mother was, who thought nothing of having an affair with a married man!—and I hated you because I'd fallen in love with you.'
He smoothed her hair tenderly, with a hand that was not quite steady.
She lifted her head from where it had lain on his chest, his heart beating beneath her cheek. She looked at him suddenly, urgently.
'But it's all right now—it's all right now, isn't it, Nikos? Isn't it?'
He kissed her softly, cradling her head.
'Yes,' he breathed. 'It's all right now. It's all right—and from now on it will always, always be all right. Because we are together. We've found each other—the people we truly are. No more lies.' He kissed each eyelid, each corner of her mouth. 'We've made our new beginning.'
She smiled into his mouth, deep, deep peace filling her.
'In our beginning is our end?'
'Yes,' said Nikos. 'Oh, yes.'
And he kissed her, slow and deep and full of love.
EPILOGUE
'SMILE! One more time! All four of you!'
Nikos raised the camera and focused through the lens once more.
His sister made a face. 'They're too young to smile! They don't smile until at least three months!'
'And then the books say it's usually wind!' added her stepdaughter for good measure.
'Then you two smile!' ordered Nikos.
Demetria sat up a little straighter and fussed over her son's magnificent christening robe. Beside her, on the sofa, Janine smoothed the head of her son—and rearranged him slightly in her arms. The two women glanced at each other, sudden tears filling their eyes.
Tears of happiness. Sheer happiness.
Demetria took Janine's hand.
'I beat you to it,' she said in a low voice. 'I was determined to do so!'
Janine pressed the other woman's hand, feeling her joy, her relief. Demetria had longed so much, and so long, for a child of her own.
When she'd first realised she was pregnant, less than six months into her marriage, Janine had been torn between joy and anguish. For close on two months she and Nikos had kept it a closely guarded secret, dreading the time when Demetria would have to know that her sister-in-law was to bear her brother a child, a grandchild to her own husband.
And then, during the Easter celebrations, Stephanos had drawn his wife to her feet.
'We have something to tell you,' he had said to his daughter and his son-in-law—his brother-in-law.
He placed a proud, protective hand over Demetria's stomach.
'Our child is growing here,' he said. 'Through the miracle of science he lives and grows.'
'We didn't want to say anything,' said Demetria, her voice full with emotion, 'not until the first trimester was over and we knew the pregnancy was secure.'
Janine rushed to embrace her, and as her arms folded around her sister-in-law—her stepmother—she heard Demetria say, 'And now, my dearest Janine, you can tell me why you will drink no wine, and have a glow about you that I see only in my own mirror!'
It had been a race from then on. A race that Demetria had been determined to win.
'I have a secret advantage,' she'd told Janine smugly. 'One of the nicest things about assisted conception is that you know exactly what day your baby is conceived! That means my due date is as accurate as it can be! As for you...' She'd looked with mock resignation at her brother's wife. 'If you can know which night Nikos gave you your child, then all that billing and cooing you do all the time will have been a most unlikely lie!'
Janine had coloured, and Nikos had looked even more smug than his sister.
Now, with both babies successfully delivered, both mothers recovered from childbed, the two women sat, posing themselves and their offspring while yet more photos were taken.
On the other side of the room Stephanos sat back in his comfortable chair. Champagne beaded in his glass. His eyes were suspiciously wet.
As his brother-in-law, his son-in-law, finally lowered his camera, Stephanos raised his glass again.
'One more toast!' he cried.
Nikos set down his camera and picked up his glass. The two men raised their glasses. Two pairs of eyes rested on the women sitting on the sofa, their babies on their laps.
'To happiness,' said Stephanos. His voice was thick with emotion. 'To my daughter and my wife. My son and my grandson. May this day be blessed.'
I think,' said Nikos, as his eyes rested on Janine and hers on him, and the lovelight blazed from both of them, 'it already is.'
And then, quite suddenly, his eyes were suspiciously wet too.
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