by Lynne Graham
‘Tilda!’ Maribel smiled warmly at the stunningly lovely blonde woman awaiting her arrival. She had paused only to see Mouse into his hidey-hole below the hall table—placed there for that purpose—and hand Elias over to the attentions of his nanny.
Turquoise-blue eyes sparkling, the princess moved forward to greet her. ‘Maribel—it’s wonderful to see you again.’
‘Oh, my goodness, I suppose I should’ve curtsied, or something. I quite forgot your royal status!’ Maribel grasped Tilda’s outstretched hands and gave them an affectionate squeeze.
‘Don’t be silly. That stuff is only for public occasions,’ Tilda scolded. ‘Is…er…Leonidas here?’
Aware of the other woman’s tension, Maribel was quick to reassure her. ‘No. You’re safe. Leonidas is still abroad.’
Tilda gave her a guilty look of apology. ‘Is it so obvious that I want to avoid him? I’m sorry—how horribly rude I’m being!’
‘You and he never hit it off. Don’t let that come between us,’ Maribel told her with complete calm. ‘Now how long can you stay for? We have so much to catch up on.’
A tray of tea and delicate little nibbles was brought in and served.
‘I was really disappointed that I couldn’t come to your wedding in Bakhar,’ Maribel confided. ‘It wasn’t possible for me to leave Imogen at the time. She wasn’t well at all.’
‘I understood that. You were amazingly patient with her.’
‘I was very fond of Imogen.’ Even so, ever since Leonidas had confided that Maribel reminded him of Imogen, Maribel’s self-esteem had nosedived. She was crushed by the conviction that she had only ever been a poor substitute for her cousin, and haunted by the suspicion that she had no right whatsoever to expect or ask for anything more than tolerance and acceptance from Leonidas. Surely if she had been the morally decent woman she liked to believe she was, she would have withstood the temptation that Leonidas had offered on the night that Elias was conceived?
‘I saw your son walking into the house with you,’ the princess remarked softly. ‘He looks very like Leonidas.’
‘I imagine you were very shocked to find out who his father was.’
Tilda looked troubled. ‘How frank can I be?’
‘Totally frank.’
‘I was very concerned.’ Tilda pulled a face and her voice became hesitant. ‘I’m probably about to offend you for ever when I tell you why I felt I had to come and see you before your wedding.’
‘I doubt that very much. I don’t take offence easily, especially not with the people I trust.’
‘I was afraid that you might feel you have no choice but to marry Leonidas to retain custody of your son. He’s a formidable man and very powerful.’ Tilda released her breath in an anxious sigh. ‘But you do have a choice—I’m willing to offer you financial backing if you need it to go through the courts and fight him.’
‘Does Rashad know about this?’
Tilda frowned. ‘Rashad and Leonidas have a friendship quite independent of our marriage. I’ll be honest—Rashad wouldn’t approve of my interference, particularly when there is a child involved, but I have my own money and my own convictions about what’s right and what’s wrong.’
‘You’re a dear friend.’ Maribel was very much touched by Tilda’s offer of monetary assistance. ‘But I’m going to marry Leonidas. I could give you a whole host of reasons why. Yes, I do feel under pressure. I do feel I can’t compete. But at the same time, Leonidas is wonderful with Elias and my son needs a father more than I wanted to admit.’
‘There’s more to marriage than raising children,’ Tilda said wryly.
A rueful smile touched Maribel’s lips and for the first time in weeks she felt curiously at peace with the turmoil of her emotions, because one unchanging truth sat at the centre of it all. ‘I’ve always loved Leonidas, Tilda—even when he was the most unlovable guy around. I can’t even explain why. It’s been that way almost since the first time I saw him.’
Leonidas returned to Heyward Park late the night before the wedding. He flew in from Greece with a plane-load of relatives. Mirabel chose a classic top and skirt in russet shades to wear with the pearl necklace and earrings, and greeted the arrivals in the front hall. Leonidas entered last, just in time to overhear his bride-to-be chatting quite comfortably with his trio of great-aunts, not one of whom spoke a word of English. Her grasp of Greek was basic but more than adequate for the occasion. A light supper was on offer, but there was also provision for the less lively members of his family who preferred to retire for the night in readiness for the celebrations the next day. Her confidence in dealing with both staff and guests was impressive. But he was quick to notice that her lush curves had slimmed down, and that when she saw him her clear eyes screened and her delicate features tightened.
‘My apologies for bringing a large party back at this hour, glikia mou,’ Leonidas murmured. ‘And my compliments for handling them with so much grace and charm.’
‘Thanks.’ Her acknowledgement of compliments from a most unusual source was brisk. Even a brief encounter with his brilliant dark eyes was sufficient to raise self-conscious colour in her cheeks. She could greet his sixty-odd relatives with equanimity, but one glimpse of him reduced her to a schoolgirlish discomfiture that mortified her. With his stylishly cut ebony hair and lean, sculpted bone structure he looked devastatingly handsome. His black business suit was perfectly tailored to his lithe powerful frame. As usual, he emanated high-voltage masculinity and rampant sex appeal.
Curving a casual arm to her spine to draw her to one side, Leonidas inclined his arrogant dark head. ‘When did you start learning Greek?’
‘Soon after Elias was born, but I haven’t always had the time I would like to concentrate on it.’ Although the contact between them was of the slightest, Maribel was as stiff as a stick of rock. ‘Excuse me, your great-aunts are waiting for me. I promised to show them some photos of Elias.’
‘Don’t I have priority?’ Astonished at being treated in such an offhand manner, Leonidas closed a staying hand over hers before she could walk away.
Maribel was achingly conscious of the compelling force of his dark golden eyes. He possessed an intense charisma that she could not withstand even when she was angry with him. Her heart was beating very fast. ‘Of course,’ she said very politely.
The distance Leonidas sensed in her was like a wall. He didn’t like it. He had assumed that the passage of time would take care of that problem and he had been wrong. Raw frustration raked through him. He thought of all the women in the past and the present who would have done anything he wanted, who would not have dreamt of angering him or criticising him. Or of making demands he was unwilling to meet. And finally he thought of Maribel who was just…Maribel, and unique. Her ability to wage a war of passive resistance was driving him crazy.
‘Tomorrow is our wedding day. In the light of that fact,’ Leonidas drawled with sardonic bite, ‘I will explain to you that Josette Dawnay has opened an art gallery in the same building as her apartment and I was invited to the opening, along with a lot of other people. If you feel the need to check the date, you should find ample evidence of those facts.’
A tide of guilty pink flushed Maribel’s creamy complexion. Relief leapt through her, but it was tinged by a streak of defiance, for she could not see why he could not have laid her concerns to rest at the time. ‘I suppose I should say that I’m sorry I drenched you—’
‘You should,’ Leonidas confirmed without hesitation.
‘I’m sorry, but you could have explained.’
‘Why should I have? You eavesdropped on a private conversation and jumped to the wrong conclusion,’ Leonidas countered with a sibilant cool that was a challenge. ‘How was that my fault?’
Maribel was continually amazed at the ease with which Leonidas could infuriate her. He had buckets of unapologetic attitude. Aggressive, dynamic, intensely competitive, he was a living, breathing testament to the power of testosterone. She could feel
the eyes of their guests lingering on them. It was one of those times when walking away seemed the wisest option. ‘Excuse me,’ she murmured again and off she went.
If Leonidas had been astonished by her attitude just minutes earlier, he was even more stunned by this resolute retreat. For the first time in his life, he had made a conciliatory move towards a woman and what was his reward? Where were the abject apologies and the passionate appreciation he had expected to receive? Something touched the toe of his shoe. Eyes smouldering, he glanced down. Mouse had crawled out from below his table. Shaking with nerves at the number of strangers about him, the wolfhound had nonetheless battled his terror to finally sneak out far enough from cover to welcome Leonidas home. Leonidas bent down and patted the shaggy head for that much-appreciated demonstration of loyalty.
Having ensured that all the guests had had their needs attended to, Maribel wasted no time in going straight up to bed. She thought of what Leonidas had told her. All her heartache over Josette Dawnay had been needless, a storm in a teacup that Leonidas could have settled in seconds—had he so desired. That he had not chosen to do so sent her a message, one she would have sooner not received. Leonidas had declared his independence and his freedom. He had spelt out the fact that marriage wasn’t going to change his lifestyle.
Her eyes prickled in the darkness. She drew in a deep sustaining breath and scolded herself for being too emotional. She had to learn how to make the best of things, not just for her own sanity but for her son’s sake as well. Tomorrow was her wedding day, she reminded herself doggedly. So many people had gone to so much trouble to ensure that every detail would be perfect—the very least she could do was try to enjoy it.
Shortly before six o’clock the next morning, Leonidas was wakened by a phone call from Vasos. Five minutes later, Leonidas was studying tabloid headlines on a computer screen and swearing eloquently in Greek. He raked his sleep-tousled black hair off his brow. PALLIS STAG CRUISE…RIOTOUS REVELRY WITH EXOTIC DANCERS! He flicked on to another page. It only got worse. The photos made him groan out loud in disbelief.
‘Who the hell took these pictures?’
Vasos stepped forward. ‘Camera phone…one of the dancers Sergio Torrente brought on board for the party. Crude, but effective.’
‘Thank you, Sergio,’ Leonidas breathed rawly.
Forty-eight hours earlier, his friend, Sergio Torrente, had mustered a crowd of male friends and staged a surprise stag party on his yacht for Leonidas’ benefit. Sergio, who loathed weddings, was now safe deep in the jungles of Borneo on one of the Action-Man trips he enjoyed, well away from the furore he had unleashed on the bridegroom.
‘I’ve taken the liberty of removing the daily newspapers from the house,’ Vasos admitted.
Dismissing Vasos, Leonidas snapped shut the laptop. He knew Vasos could only be trying to protect Maribel, since nothing shocked the Pallis family. In five hours time, he was getting married. Or was he? Strategic planning and self-preservation came naturally to Leonidas. A businessman to the backbone, he had the Machiavellian genes of a family that had been merchant bankers in the Middle Ages. While over-indulgence in the sins of the flesh had proved the downfall of previous generations of the Pallis family, Leonidas was a great deal more grounded than most people appreciated.
But although plotting and planning were the spice of life to him, he was uneasily aware that Maribel had an intolerant view of such tactics. But would she still go ahead and marry him if she got the chance to read that tabloid trash? How much faith did she have in him? None, came the answer. Maribel didn’t even pretend to have faith in him. Overhearing a single ambiguous phone call had been sufficient to make her judge and condemn him out of hand.
Leonidas brooded over the problem and, in the interests of fairness, felt duty-bound to ask himself why Maribel should trust him. The past three weeks replayed at supersonic speed in his mind. His strong, blue-shadowed jawline squared. Last night he had noticed that she had lost weight. He knew that stress was the most likely cause. She had loved her job and her home and she’d had to surrender both at short notice. Maybe she had been fond of the boyfriend, as well, Leonidas allowed grudgingly. He hadn’t wanted to know the details, so he hadn’t asked. She had once accused him of only ever doing what he wanted to do and, in this case, he recognised the accuracy of the charge. He had held onto his anger and punished her for daring to stand up to him. He had abandoned her to sink or swim in a world that was very new to her and she was naturally showing signs of strain.
Another woman might have asked him for support, but not Maribel. No, not Maribel, who was as stubborn as he was. Obstinacy was not a good trait for them to share, Leonidas acknowledged, his wide, sensual mouth compressed. A single request for advice or assistance, one little hint that she regretted challenging him, and all would have been well. Generosity in victory was not a problem for him. Unfortunately, Maribel refused to admit defeat. He was beginning to grasp how Maribel could once have said that she didn’t like him. That statement had stayed with him in a nagging memory of unpleasantness that he could not forget. But now he had to ask himself: what was to like? He had been callous and cold towards her. He had been absent when he should have been present. And, in refusing to give her a shred of reassurance, he had simply increased her distrust.
Maribel might be as tranquil as a woodland pool on the surface, but she could be amazingly passionate and hasty, he reminded himself grimly. She was a firecracker, who tended to shoot first and ask questions second. That was not a confidence-boosting attribute on the day that he needed her to go to the altar and say yes with a smile. He had already grasped the reality that, in her eyes, he would always be guilty until proven innocent. A refreshing change after a lifetime of women who were too careful to ask loaded questions or make rash demands.
As the hazy morning mist slowly lifted back to reveal the lush green of the immaculately kept grounds and the promise of the glorious summer day yet to come Leonidas reached a decision. He would tell her about the stag-doe fiasco after the wedding. A wedding was a once-in-a-lifetime event, and nothing should be allowed to cast a cloud over Maribel’s day. Or give her good reason to decide that marrying him might not be in her best interests.
CHAPTER NINE
‘REALITY-CHECK here!’ Ginny made a comic show of pinching herself while gaping at the dazzling contents of the sumptuous leather case that Maribel had opened. ‘A diamond tiara fit for a queen to wear! That will look amazing with your veil.’
‘It would look amazing with anything,’ Maribel pointed out dry-mouthed, touching the glittering sapphire and diamond jewels with a reverent fingertip. ‘But don’t you think it might be a touch over-the-top?’
‘Maribel…conspicuous consumption goes hand in hand with being a Pallis. The eight hundred guests will expect lots of bling, and most of them will be wearing their jewels.’
Later that morning, finally free of the combined attentions of the hair stylist, the beautician, the manicurist and the make-up artist, Maribel examined her unfamiliar reflection in the bedroom mirror. She was secretly enthralled by her appearance. Every day of her adult life she had played safe with fashion until she’d fallen madly in love with a bold eighteenth-century-style gown in a bridal portfolio. The boned and piped corset top accentuated her tiny waist before flaring out into a glorious full crackling skirt. Fashioned in rich gold taffeta and silk, it was a wonderfully glamorous dress. The tiara looked superb anchored in the glossy chestnut coils of her upswept hair with a gossamer-fine French lace veil caught at the back of her head.
The church, a substantial building in weathered stone, was on the Heyward Park estate. Its private entrance, allied to the heavy security and a police presence, ensured that the paparazzi could not get closer than the road that lay beyond the solid hedge.
‘I admire your calm so much,’ her cousin, Amanda Stratton, remarked sweetly, while Ginny and several parents coaxed the enchantingly pretty flower girls and the lively little page-boys into matching pai
rs. ‘As Mummy says, nine out of ten women would be threatening to leave Leonidas Pallis standing at the altar.’
Maribel frowned. ‘Why would I do something like that?’
Ginny Bell leant closer to Amanda Stratton and said something. The pretty blonde went red and stalked off.
‘What was she getting at?’ Mirabel asked her friend in an urgent undertone.
‘Maybe the rumour that Leonidas is marrying you without even the safety net of a prenuptial agreement was more than she could bear. Or, maybe it’s the sight of your diamonds. Whatever, its source is the sour grapes of envy and you shouldn’t pay the slightest heed to it,’ the older woman told her roundly.
Maribel felt as though she had just received a very sensible piece of advice. The sinking spirits she had suffered before midnight had been raised by her natural energy and optimism. Her marriage, she reflected, would be what she made of it. She breathed in deep as the doors were opened and the sweet mellow notes of organ music swelled out into the vestibule. The scent of the massed roses in the church hung heavy on the air.
Leonidas had nerves as strong as steel, but he had not enjoyed the most soothing start to the day and matters had only got worse. He had spent the morning in a disturbing state of indecision unlike anything he had ever experienced. Aware that his supposed stag cruise exploits might well feature on certain television news channels and on various celebrity websites, he had wondered what he would do if Maribel accessed either before she left for the church. On no less than three occasions he had reached the conclusion that he should move fast and give her his version of events first, only to change his mind again.
‘The bride has arrived,’ his best man, Prince Rashad, delivered in an aside, quietly marvelling at his friend’s perceptible tension and unease, and wondering if he was witnessing the reaction of a reluctant bridegroom. It was true that Maribel was a comfortable ten minutes late, but Rashad found it hard to credit that Leonidas could have feared that his wife-to-be might not turn up.