The Greek Tycoon's Defiant Bride

by Lynne Graham

  Leonidas swung right round to check that information out firsthand. And there was Maribel, exotic and vibrant in rustling gold-and-white taffeta that provided a superlative frame for her smooth creamy skin and chestnut hair. She lit up the church in a vivid splash of colour and he was so entranced he forgot to turn back again to face the altar in time-honoured tradition.

  ‘Mummy!’ It was Elias, who broke the spell by wriggling off his nanny’s lap with the speed and energy of an electric eel to hurl himself in Maribel’s direction.

  Leonidas strode forward to intercept his son and he hoisted the little boy high before he could trip the bride or her attendants up. Laughter and smiles broke out amongst their guests.

  Maribel’s attention locked to Leonidas and refused to budge. In tails and pinstripe trousers matched with a stylish cravat that toned with her dress, he would have made any woman stare. She met his stunning dark golden eyes and it was as if the rest of the world, and certainly everyone in the church, had vanished in a puff of smoke. All she was aware of was Leonidas. A sweet, wanton tide of warmth slivered silken fingers of anticipation through her slim frame.

  Ginny took Elias from Leonidas. Leonidas grasped Maribel’s fingers and bent his darkly handsome head to press a kiss to the delicate blue-veined skin of her inner wrist. It was more of a caress than a kiss and, although that contact only lasted for an instant, it sent a tingling sensual message to her every nerve-ending and left her trembling.

  She was afraid to look at him again during the service in case she forgot where she was again. Yet she remained aware of him with every fibre of her being. She gave her responses in a clear voice that sounded a lot calmer than she felt. They exchanged rings. Her tension eased the moment they were pronounced man and wife. He retained his hold on her hand.

  ‘You look magnificent, hara mou,’ Leonidas told her huskily. ‘That colour was made for you.’

  ‘I was terrified I would look as if I was starring in a costume drama,’ Maribel whispered back, encouraged into a burst of confidence. ‘But I just fell totally for the dress.’

  ‘You were rather late arriving at the church.’ Leonidas reached down to lift Elias, who was resisting his nanny’s attempt to remove him from the midst of things. Tired and fed up with being cooed over and admired, the little boy was starting to get cross.

  ‘It’s traditional.’ Maribel laughed, touched and pleased by the way Leonidas was beginning to intuitively look out for his son even when Elias was in a less-than appealing mood. ‘I could hardly leave you with all that luggage monogrammed with my new married initials.’

  Leonidas discovered that his sense of humour wasn’t quite as robust as usual. He had a disconcerting vision of those suitcases piled up with all the other gifts he had given her. It would be like Maribel to leave every present behind if she left him. It bothered him that he still felt that edgy. A wedding ring would make any woman stop and think before doing anything foolish or impulsive, wouldn’t it? She was a church-goer and she had taken vows and made promises. Even so, all of a sudden, he was wondering at what precise point a marriage became official and binding—before or after the consummation?

  In the vehicle that carried them back very slowly to the house, Maribel felt a little uncomfortable with her bridegroom’s silence. ‘How do you feel now that you’ve “got it all over with”?’ she asked, striving for a light teasing note because she was hoping to receive an answer that would soothe her insecurities.

  ‘Relieved,’ Leonidas admitted with the emphasis of pure sincerity, although he felt he would be even more relieved when the day was over. He was making a valiant effort to rise above the ignominy of being forced to travel in an open carriage lined with blue velvet and drawn by four white horses prancing along with azure plumes bobbing in their head collars. He was learning a lot about Maribel’s bridal preferences and a great deal of it was surprisingly colourful stuff, wholly out of step with her bridegroom’s sophisticated tastes.

  Maribel felt that, had they just attended a very trying event, she could have understood if he had confessed to a sense of relief. Just as quickly, she scolded herself for being oversensitive. Many men were reputed to dislike the fuss and formality of weddings. Was she getting carried away with the fantasy of her theatrical dress, the church romantically awash with roses, or the thrill of the carriage ride? She gave herself a stern lecture, because a magical wedding day didn’t really change anything. It didn’t mean that Leonidas would be miraculously transformed into a guy who loved her as much as she loved him. That was the stuff of dreams and she was a practical woman, wasn’t she?

  When the carriage drew up outside the house, Leonidas sprang out with alacrity and reached up to lift his bride down. But he didn’t put her down again. Black lashes curling low over mesmeric golden eyes, he prised her lips apart with a sensual flick of his tongue and set about plundering the delicate interior of her mouth with a carnal expertise that caught her wholly unprepared. Her mind went blank; she was overwhelmed. Sensual firecrackers of response went fizzing and flaring through her bloodstream. The tips of her breasts tingled and her insides turned liquid. Slowly he lowered her again until her fancy golden shoes found purchase on the plush red carpet that ran up to the entrance doors.

  Eyes like sapphire stars, Maribel parted her love-bruised lips. She was about to speak when a movement to one side of Leonidas attracted her attention. The sight of a stranger with a camera, signalling her to stay still for another moment, rocked her back to planet earth again with a jarring thump. She had neither noticed nor recalled the team of professionals engaged to film their wedding day for posterity. But Leonidas was a good deal more observant. With perfect timing he had just delivered a perfectly choreographed clinch to mark the bridal couple’s arrival at the house.

  ‘Gone with the Wind has got nothing on you,’ Maribel remarked in a brittle voice, mortified pink highlighting her cheekbones. ‘Well, you did promise to ensure a good surface show and that was very much in line with what’s expected of a bridegroom.’

  Leonidas wondered when she had developed the atrocious habit of remembering everything he had ever said and tossing it back to him like a log on a fire when he didn’t feel like a blaze. ‘That’s not why I kissed you, hara mou.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘No. It is not,’ Leonidas framed with succinct bite.

  Maribel tossed her head as much as she dared, for she did not want to dislodge her tiara. ‘Well, I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Why don’t we leave our guests to party alone and head straight to the bedroom right now, mali mou?’ Leonidas intoned that offer in the softest, silkiest voice imaginable. ‘I’m ready and willing. Would you believe me then? Would that prove that sexual hunger rather than a wish to pose for the camera-lens powered me?’

  Violet-blue eyes wide, her heart thudding at the foot of her throat with shock, Maribel stared up at him aghast. Dangerous dark, deep-set eyes glittered down at her in a ruthless challenge that was all rogue male laced with white-hot sexuality. Her mouth ran dry, for she knew instantly that he wasn’t playing games. Indeed she had a horrible suspicion that abandoning their guests and all the hoopla that would go with entertaining them was a prospect that held considerable attraction for Leonidas.

  ‘Yes, it would…er…but I really don’t think that we need go that far,’ she muttered hurriedly.

  ‘No?’ His entire attention was welded to her. Not by so much as a flicker did he betray any awareness of the staff assembled on the far side of the hall to greet them or of the long procession of limousines pulling up outside to disgorge the first guests.

  ‘No,’ she whispered unevenly.

  Leonidas stroked a blunt brown forefinger across the flush of colour illuminating her creamy complexion. ‘No?’ he queried thickly. ‘Even if it’s what I want most in the world at this moment, hara mou?’

  Her heart was racing. Her breath had snarled up in her throat. His dark, rich drawl, his brilliant, provocative gaze, controlled her.
She could feel the wild heat in him igniting a flame low in her pelvis and her legs quivered under her. Don’t I get priority? he had asked the night before. Suddenly she wanted to give him that priority, no matter what the cost.

  ‘Okay…if that’s what you want,’ she heard herself say in capitulation, and could then scarcely believe that she had said it.

  Surprise and appreciation flashed through Leonidas. At last, yes. The strength of his satisfaction astonished him. She was so conventional, so careful. He knew the worth of his triumph and the power of his appeal. Golden eyes smouldering, he grasped her hand and carried her slender fingers to his lips with a gentleness that was rare for him. ‘Thank you, kardoula mou. But I won’t embarrass you like that.’

  Disappointment and relief gripped Maribel in equal parts. But people were joining them; introductions had to be made, good wishes and congratulations received. The bustling busyness of being a hostess as well as a bride took over for Maribel, who had gently refused her aunt’s suggestion that she take charge for her niece’s benefit. When Maribel got her first free moment, she devoted it to Elias, who needed a cuddle and a little time alone with his mother before he would settle down for a long-overdue nap.

  She was taking a short cut from the nursery down a rear staircase to the ballroom when she heard a name and a familiar giggle that made her pause.

  ‘Of course, if Imogen had lived,’ her cousin Amanda was saying with authority while she fussed with her hair in front of a gilded mirror, ‘Maribel would never have got near Leonidas. Imogen was gorgeous and she would never have popped a sprog just to get a guy to the altar.’

  ‘Do you really think Maribel planned her pregnancy?’

  ‘Of course, she did. It must’ve been right after the funeral—Maribel pounced when Leonidas was drunk, or something…I mean, he must have been drunk and upset about my sister!’

  Praying that she would not have to suffer the ultimate humiliation of being seen, Maribel began to tiptoe back up the stairs. Unfortunately Amanda’s shrill voice carried with clarity after her.

  ‘Imogen thought it was so hilarious that Maribel had the hots for Leonidas that she told him. But I don’t suppose my sister would be laughing if she were here today. Did you see that tiara? Did you see the size of those diamonds? And what does Maribel do to say thank you? She sticks her billionaire in a tacky carriage drawn by horses that looked like they came straight out of a circus!’

  Maribel headed for the main staircase at the other side of the great house. Her tummy was knotted with nausea. Had the carriage idea been tacky? How naïve of her not to appreciate that their sudden marriage would create loads of unpleasant rumours! How could anyone think that she had planned to fall pregnant? But perhaps this was a shotgun wedding in the sense that she had put Leonidas under pressure with regard to their son. So what right had she to be so thin-skinned?

  Some of the comments, however, cut even deeper and hurt much more. Had she taken advantage of the fact that Leonidas was grieving the night after the funeral? They had both been grieving. Even so, that suggestion hit a very sensitive spot. She was still afraid that the only reason Leonidas had gone to bed with her in the first place was that she had reminded him of Imogen. And could it be true that Imogen had guessed how Maribel felt about Leonidas and told him? Made Maribel the butt of a joke? Her cousin, she recalled painfully, had had a rather cruel sense of humour that many people had enjoyed. And none more so, in those far-off student days, than Leonidas. She was cringing at the idea that he might know her biggest secret, might always have known. Eavesdroppers never heard good of themselves. She wondered who was responsible for that irrelevant old chestnut. She felt absolutely gutted.

  The instant Maribel returned to Leonidas’ side, he noticed that something was wrong. Her inner glow had dimmed; her sparkle had dulled. When the meal was served, her healthy appetite had vanished and she picked at her food and evaded his gaze. His tension increased. He knew it had been a big mistake to let her out of his sight. Someone had referred to the stag party and she was upset. He was convinced, however, that she was too well mannered to confront him in public. As he sat there brooding on how best to handle the fallout the appeal of the Italian honeymoon he had organised began to steadily recede. His Tuscan palazzo was exquisite, but there would be airports within reasonable reach as well as towns with easy transport links. Although he always travelled with his own staff, it would be hard to keep the lid on any major marital breakdown. If Maribel decided to be especially lacking in understanding and forgiveness, she would find it all too easy to walk out on him in Italy.

  Having reached the conclusion that he might easily live to regret a Tuscan honeymoon, Leonidas decided to take his bride straight back home to the island of Zelos, where he had been born. Surrounded by sea and an army of devoted retainers, Maribel would not be going anywhere in a hurry, or without his consent. He would have all the time in the world to dissuade her from making any hasty or unwise decisions. Inclining his arrogant dark head to signal Vasos over to him, Leonidas communicated his change of heart.

  Only when he had done that did he consider the reality that he was making plans to virtually imprison his wife. A very slight frisson of unease assailed Leonidas at that acknowledgement. When he studied Maribel’s pale delicate profile, his core of inner steel held him steady. Look what had happened the last time he had given her the freedom to make her own choices! She had only gone through a pregnancy alone and unprotected! A pregnancy with his child, which he should have shared in right from the start, Leonidas reasoned fiercely. When she made bad decisions like that, it was hardly surprising that he should feel the need to take control. In any case even Stone Age Man had known it was his duty to protect the family unit.

  Tilda insisted on accompanying Maribel when she went upstairs to get changed. ‘I owe you an apology for misjudging Leonidas,’ the beautiful blonde murmured with twinkling turquoise eyes. ‘Just like the rest of us, he has matured and changed since he was at uni.’

  Maribel cast off her private worries to summon up a warm smile that put Tilda at her ease. ‘And what brought on that realisation?’

  ‘Apart from the fact that he has been really charming to me today? When I see Leonidas with you and Elias, he is a very different guy from the one I remember,’ the princess confessed. ‘And while I was astonished when I learned that you and he were a couple, my husband wasn’t. He said that you were the only woman Leonidas ever sought out for an intelligent conversation.’

  Maribel nodded, but felt just then that intelligent conversation wasn’t a lot to offer to one of the world’s most notorious womanisers.

  ‘Is there something worrying you?’ Tilda asked gently. ‘Is it all that stag cruise nonsense?’

  Maribel veiled her startled eyes before she could betray her ignorance on that subject. She concentrated on donning a turquoise and pink dress that was both elegant and comfortable to travel in. ‘Er…no.’

  ‘I knew you would be too sensible to let anything of that nature bother you. After all, men will be men, and our men in particular will always be paparazzi targets,’ Tilda remarked wryly. ‘Rashad would have been on that yacht with Sergio and Leonidas, if he hadn’t had to take my father-in-law’s place at a government meeting.’

  Stag-cruise nonsense? Don’t go there, Maribel told herself staunchly. None of her business, was it? So soon after that unfortunate misunderstanding over Josette Dawnay, Maribel was in no hurry to suspect the worst. In any case, she was still too much taken up with tormenting herself with the suspicion that Leonidas might always have known that she loved him. She really couldn’t bear that idea, she really could not live with that possibility, she acknowledged tautly. Without her pride she felt she would have nothing.

  Maribel studied the island far below them as the helicopter wheeled round in a turn. There was just enough light left for her to get a good view. Zelos was surprisingly lush and green and there were loads of trees. Long slices of golden sand were edged by the turquoise of
the sea that washed the shores. She thought it looked like paradise. A very substantial residence occupied a magnificent site in splendid isolation at one end of the island. At the other, there was a picturesque fishing village with a church and a huge yacht in the harbour. Zelos was where Leonidas had grown up and, for that reason alone, she was fascinated by the prospect of living on the island.

  Darkness had fallen when Elias was welcomed into the big sprawling house as though he were royalty. Maribel watched her son being borne off to bed by Diane and her co-nanny, a young Greek woman, closely followed by the housekeeper, the nursery maids and her son’s personal protection officer. Slowly she shook her head. ‘Elias is never going to be alone again, is he?’

  ‘We Greeks are gregarious by nature. I was alone too much as a child but, just as I was, he will be watched over by everyone on the island. Welcome to your new home, hara mou.’ Leonidas closed a shapely brown hand over hers. ‘Let me show you the house.’

  It was as large as Heyward Park, for several generations of his family had built new wings to suit their individual tastes. In a glorious room that opened out onto a beautiful vine-shaded terrace, Leonidas tugged her into his arms with immense care.

  ‘I want you to be happy here,’ he told her huskily.

  Maribel stared up into his brilliant dark eyes and felt her heart lurch. She had promised herself that she would not stoop to asking Leonidas any foolish questions. But suddenly she could no longer withstand her need to know the truth. ‘There’s something I want to ask you, Leonidas,’ she breathed abruptly.

  Leonidas regarded her in level enquiry.

  ‘Did Imogen tell you years ago that I was in love with you?’ Maribel completed.

  It was the very last question that Leonidas could have foreseen. Having braced himself for a query of an entirely different nature, indeed an accusation, he was bemused.