He had his culprit, he realised grimly.
The ever-sharp Eve also noticed Chloe’s fleeting glance at Isobel’s throat—and her ensuing discomfort. The little minx made a play of checking out Isobel’s necklace. ‘Oh, how lovely,’ she declared. ‘Are they old or are they new?’
‘Most definitely new,’ Leandros answered smoothly. ‘I had them specially commissioned for Isobel just after we were married,’ he explained. ‘As far as I recall Isobel has only worn them once before—isn’t that so, agape mou?’
‘I…Yes.’ He watched her fingers jerk up to touch the necklace. She was trying to hide her shock at what he had said, while his sister had turned to a block of stone.
‘We like to call them the family heirlooms.’ Oh, cruelty be mine, he thought with grim satisfaction as he soothed Isobel with the gentle squeeze of her hand and smiled glassily into his sister’s unblinking eyes. Chloe realized that he now knew the kind of unkind rubbish she had fed to his wife. She also now realized that she was in deep trouble the next time he got her alone. He was looking forward to it, Chloe certainly wasn’t.
The buffet dinner was announced. Maybe it was fortunate because it gave his darling sister the excuse to melt away. People shifted positions as the slow mass exodus to the adjoining room began. Eve strolled away with her husband. Theron was gallantly offering to escort Isobel’s mother. They went off together, Theron matching his long strides to Silvia’s smaller steps while talking away to her with an easy charm.
Which left them alone again. ‘I think Theron has taken to your mother,’ he observed lightly.
‘Just don’t speak,’ his wife told him stiffly. ‘I’m too angry to listen to you.’
He looked down into glinting eyes. ‘Why, what have I done?’ he asked innocently.
‘You don’t have to do anything to be a horrible person,’ she answered. ‘It must be in the genes.’
‘Then you understand why my sister is the way that she is,’ he countered smoothly, and when she went to stalk away from him he stopped her by tightening his grip on her hand. ‘We do not run away any more, agape mou,’ he reminded her.
‘Sometimes I can hate you.’ Her chin was up. ‘All the time you were dressing me up in these, you were laughing at me!’
He laughed now, low and huskily. She was beginning to sizzle. He loved it when she sizzled. ‘The Venezuelan pirate was pure inspiration.’ Another flash sparked from her eyes and he should have been slain where he stood. ‘Now tell me the fairy tale Chloe fed to you.’
Her mouth snapped shut in refusal to answer. ‘Loyalty from the witch for the cat?’ he drawled quizzically. ‘Now, that does surprise me.’
Isobel had surprised herself. She had a suspicion her silence had something to do with the pained look she’d seen on Chloe’s face as Leandros taunted her, and the fact that Chloe had flicked her a glance of mute apology before she’d slipped away.
‘I’m hungry,’ she said, which could not be less true since she knew she would not be able to swallow a single thing tonight. But the claim served its purpose in letting him know that a discussion about his sister was not going to happen. Not until she understood where Chloe was coming from these days. It was Leandros who wanted her to give his family a chance, after all.
‘Why Venezuelan?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Why not French or Spanish or—?’
His laughter sent his dark head back. People turned to stare as if they weren’t used to hearing him laugh like this. He deigned not to notice their disconcerted glances, kissed her full on her mouth then led her to join the crush around the buffet table.
The evening moved on. With a quiet determination, Leandros took her from group to group and pulled her into conversation in a way that she could only describe as making a statement about the solidarity of their marriage. As he did this he also exposed yet another secret, by always making sure he made some remark to her in Greek. By the time a couple of hours had gone by there wasn’t a person present who had known her before who did not know now that she understood their native tongue.
And he had done it with such ruthless intention. Leandros was making sure that people thought twice before discussing his wife in her presence. Some looked uncomfortable at the discovery; some simply accepted it with pleased surprise. The uncomfortable ones were logged in his memory; Isobel could almost see him compiling a list of those people who would not be included in their social circle in the future.
Other people made sure they kept their distance, which spoke even greater volumes about what they were thinking. Takis Konstantindou was one of those people. Chloe, of course, was another one. She could understand Chloe’s reasons for steering clear of them but the lawyer’s cool attitude puzzled her.
Then there was Diantha Christophoros. If Isobel glimpsed her at all it was usually within a group that contained either Chloe or Leandros’s mother. In a way she could find it in herself to feel sorry for Diantha, because it couldn’t have been easy for her to turn up here tonight knowing that everyone here was going to know by now that old rumours about Leandros wanting to divorce his wife to marry her had to be false.
‘Don’t you think we should go and speak to her?’ she suggested when she caught Leandros glancing Diantha’s way.
‘For what purpose?’ he questioned coolly.
‘She has got to be feeling uncomfortable, Leandros. The rumours affect her as much as they do you.’
‘The best way to kill a rumour is to starve it,’ was his response. ‘Diantha seems to have my sister and my mother to offer all the necessary comfort.’
Which said, more or less, what Isobel had been trying not to think. The family preference could not be more noticeable if they stuck signs on their backs saying ‘Vote Isobel out and Diantha in’. It was Eve Herakleides who put it in an absolute nutshell when she came to join Isobel out on the terrace, where she’d slipped away to get some fresh air that did not contain curiosity and intrigue.
‘Word of warning,’ Eve began. ‘Watch out for Diantha Christophoros. She may appear nice and quiet and amiable but she has hidden talents behind the bland smile. She has a way of manipulating people without them realising she’s doing it. It was only a few weeks ago that she convinced Chloe that she should remain here to help her mother with Nikos’s wedding arrangements, while Diantha went to Spain in Chloe’s place to help Leandros with a big celebration party he threw in San Estéban. Chloe puzzled for ages afterwards as to how it had actually come about that she’d agreed, since she had been so looking forward to spending two weeks with her brother. Then, blow me if Diantha isn’t back in Athens for less than a day when the rumours were suddenly flying about Leandros filing for divorce from you so that he could marry her. She wants your husband,’ she announced sagely. ‘And her uncle Takis wants her to have him.’
‘Takis and Diantha are related?’ It was news to Isobel.
Eve nodded. ‘They’re a tightly knit lot, these upper-crust Greeks,’ she said candidly. ‘Thank goodness for women like you and my mother or they’d be so inbred they would have wiped themselves out by now.’
‘What a shocking thing to say!’ Isobel gasped on a compulsive giggle.
‘And what shocking thing is this minx saying now?’ Leandros intruded.
A pair of hands arrived at Isobel’s slender waistline, the brush of his lips warmed her cheek—the lick of his tongue against her earlobe as he pulled away again sent her wretched knees weak.
‘Woman-talk is for women only,’ the minx answered for herself. ‘And you, dear cousin, have had a lucky escape in my opinion.’ With that provocatively cryptic remark, she walked away.
They both turned to watch her go, an exquisite creature dressed in slinky hot pink making a direct line for her husband, who sensed her coming—his broad shoulders gave a small shake just before he turned around and grinned.
‘She hooked him in against his will,’ Leandros confided. ‘I think he still finds it difficult to believe that he let her do it.’
‘Well, I
think he’s a very lucky man,’ Isobel stated loyally because she liked Eve and always had done.
‘Mmm,’ he murmured, ‘so am I…’
‘No—don’t,’ she breathed when he began to lower his dark head again. ‘Not here; you will ruin what bit of dignity I have managed to maintain.’
His warm laughter teased as he used his grip on her waist to swing her round until her hips rested against the heavy stone balustrade behind her. His superior bulk was suddenly hiding her from view of everyone else. Eyes like molasses began sending the kind of messages that forced her to lower her gaze from him.
‘I like you in this,’ she murmured softly, running her fingers beneath the slender lapels of his white jacket.
‘Tell me I look like a Greek waiter and I will probably toss you over this balustrade,’ he warned.
Her smile appeared wrapped in rueful memories of the time she had once said that to him in an attempt to flatten his impossible ego. ‘I was such a bitch,’ she confessed.
‘No,’ Leandros denied that. ‘You assured me at the time that you had a hot thing for Greek waiters. I think I was supposed to feel complimented,’ he mused thoughtfully.
It was irresistible; she just had to lift her laughing eyes upwards again. It was a mistake. She just fell into those eyes filled with such warm, dark promises. Her breath began to feather, a new kind of tension began circling them like a sensual predator circling its two victims while inside the house, beyond the pair of open terrace doors, a party was taking place. Music was filtering out to them on the warm summer air along with laughter and the general hum of conversation.
‘I love you,’ she said. It came out of nowhere.
He responded with a sharp intake of breath. His shoulders tensed, his whole body stiffened, his grip tightened on her waist. ‘Fine time to tell me that!’ he snapped out thinly. But he wasn’t angry, just—overwhelmed.
She began to tremble because it had been such a dangerous thing for her to say out loud. It committed her, totally and utterly. It stood her naked and exposed and so vulnerable to hurt again that her throat locked up on a bank of emotion which threatened to turn into tears.
He was faring no better. She could feel the struggle he was having with himself not to respond in some wildly passionate way. A verbal response would have been enough for Isobel. A simple, ‘I love you too,’ would have helped her through this.
‘I’ll take it back if you like,’ she shot out a trifle wildly.
‘No,’ he rasped. ‘Just don’t speak again while I…’
Deal with this; she finished the sentence for him. It was silly; it was stupid. They were grown-ups who were supposed to have a bit more class than to put each other through torture in public. She couldn’t stop herself from flicking a glance at his face. As she did so he looked down. A wave of feeling washed over both of them in a static-packed blowback from just three little words.
They could have been alone. They should have been alone. Her breasts heaved on a tense pull of air. His hands pulled her hard against him. ‘Don’t kiss me!’ she shot out in a constrained choke.
‘The balustrade is still very tempting,’ he gritted. ‘I thought Eve was the biggest minx around here but you knock her into a loop.’
Heat was coursing through her body; the shocking evidence that he was on fire for her was shutting down her brain. The music played, the laughter and hum of conversation swirled all around them. In a minute, she had a horrible suspicion, she was going to find herself flattened to the ground with this big, lean, suave and sophisticated man very much on top.
‘All sweetness and light,’ he continued, thrusting the words down at her from between clenched teeth. ‘All smiles and quiet answers for everyone else. The hair is up, so neat and prim—since when did you ever give way to such convention? Everyone back there sees the beautifully refined version of Isobel but I have to get the tormenting witch!’
‘Keep talking,’ she encouraged. She was beginning to get angry now. ‘If you do it for long enough maybe you will wear yourself out!’
‘I am not wearing out.’ He took her words literally. ‘I am just getting started. From the moment you strode back into my life on those two sensational legs of yours you’ve had me standing on pins like some love-lost fool with no idea what is happening to me.’
‘Did you dare use the love word then?’ she taunted glacially.
‘I’ve always loved you!’ he thrust out harshly. ‘I loved you when we flirted across the top of a Ferrari. I still loved you when you left me pining for three damn years!’
‘Three years of pining,’ she mocked unsteadily. ‘I didn’t see any evidence of it.’ But he’d said it. He had actually said it.
‘We’ve been through that already,’ he snapped out impatiently.
‘You brought me back here to divorce me.’
‘It was an excuse. Anyone with sense would have realised that.’
‘You had your next wife all picked out and ready.’
‘I am arrogant. You know I am arrogant. Can you not cut a man a bit of slack?’
‘Which is why I had to say it first, I suppose.’
The air hissed from between his teeth. If an electric cable had been fitted to them, they could have lit up the night there was so much static stress.
‘I think the both of us are about to go over this balustrade,’ he gritted furiously.
‘You will go first,’ Isobel vowed. ‘And I hope you break your arrogant neck!’
A sound behind them brought them swinging round in unison. Isobel’s heart sank to her shoes when she saw her mother-in-law hovering a few yards away. What did they look like? What did she see? Two people locked in a row that probably brought back a hundred memories of similar rows like this? She looked wary and anxious, her black eyes flicking from one to the other. Oh, God, please help me, Isobel groaned silently.
‘I am sorry to intrude,’ Thea said stiffly, and her gaze finally settled upon Isobel’s blushing face. ‘But I am concerned about your mama, Isobel. Theron has her dancing with her walking frame and I am afraid his enthusiasm is tiring her out.’
A single glance through the doors into the house was all that was needed to confirm that Thea’s concerns were real. The seventy-year-old Theron was indeed dancing with her mother, who was using the walking frame as a prop. The man was flirting outrageously. Silvia was laughing, enjoying herself hugely, but even from here Isobel could see the strain beginning to show on her face.
‘I’ll go and…’ She went to move, but Leandros stopped her.
‘No, let me. She will take the disappointment better if I do it,’ he insisted. At Isobel’s questioning glance, ‘Two men fighting over her?’ he explained quizzically, then dropped a kiss on her lips and strode off, pausing only long enough to drop a similar kiss on his mother’s cheek.
Suddenly Isobel found herself alone with a woman who did not like her. Awkwardness became a tangible thing that held them both silent and tense.
‘My son is very fond of your mother.’ Thea broke the silence with that quiet observation.
‘Yes.’ Isobel’s eyes warmed as she watched Leandros fall into a playful fight with Theron for Silvia’s hand. ‘My mother is fond of him, too.’
She hadn’t meant it as a strike at their cold relationship but she realised that Thea had taken it that way as she stiffened and turned to leave. ‘No, don’t go, please,’ she murmured impulsively.
Her mother-in-law paused. An ache took up residence inside Isobel’s chest. This was supposed to be a time for fresh starts and for Leandros’s sake she knew she had to try to reach out with the hand of friendship.
‘You were arguing again.’ Once again it was Thea who took up the challenge by spinning to face her with the accusation.
‘You misread what you saw,’ Isobel replied, then offered up a rueful smile. ‘We were actually making love.’ Adding a shrug to the smile, she forced herself to go on. ‘It has always been like this between us. We spark each other off. Sometimes I t
hink we could light the whole world up with the power we can generate…’ Her eyes glazed on a wistful float back to what Thea had interrupted. Then she blinked into focus. ‘Though I understand why you might not have seen it like that,’ she was willing to concede.
Her mother-in-law took a few moments to absorb all of this, then she sighed and some of the tension dropped out of her stiff shoulders. ‘I understand that you learned Greek while you were here the last time.’
‘Yes,’ Isobel confirmed.
‘I think, perhaps, that you therefore heard things said that should not have been said.’
Lowering her gaze. ‘Yes,’ she said again.
Another small silence followed. Then Thea came to stand by the balustrade. ‘My son loves you,’ she said quietly. ‘And Leandros’s happiness is all I really care about. But the fights…’ She waved a delicately structured hand in a gesture of weariness. ‘They used to tire me out.’
And me, Isobel thought, remembering back to when the sparks were not always so lovingly passionate.
‘When you left here, I was relieved to see you go. But Leandros did not feel the same. He was so miserable here that he went to Spain on a business trip and did not come back again. He missed you.’
‘I missed him too.’
‘Yes…’ Thea accepted that. ‘Leandros wants us to be friends,’ she went on. ‘I would like that too, Isobel.’
Though Thea’s tone warned that she was going to have to work at it. Isobel smiled; what else could she do? Her mother-in-law was a proud woman. She was making a climb-down here that took with it some of that pride.
Taking in a deep breath, she gave that pride back to her. ‘I was too young four years ago. I was overwhelmed by your lifestyle, and too touchy and too rebellious by far to accept advice on how best to behave or cope.’ Lifting her eyes to Leandros’s mother’s eyes, ‘This time will be different,’ she promised solemnly.
Her mother-in-law nodded and said nothing. They both knew they had reached some kind of wary compromise. As she turned to go back to the party Thea paused. ‘I am sorry about the baby,’ she said gravely. ‘It was another part of your unhappiness here, because kindness was not used to help you through the grief of your loss.’
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