The Greek's Runaway Bride

by Penny Jordan

  ‘I arranged for your “friend” to desert you?’ He laughed, the sound mirthless. ‘You always were a poor judge of character, weren’t you? His “friendship” proved surprisingly inexpensive. But don’t worry, you won’t miss him. Was he your only lover?’

  It was on the tip of Chloe’s tongue to tell him the truth, but she bit back the words, unwilling for Leon to know that since the break-up of their marriage there had been no one else. Even now she could scarcely take it in that Leon had actually planned for her to come to Eos, for Derek to desert her and for her to be brought here to this tiny island.

  ‘I could have simply had you kidnapped in England, of course,’ he drawled, accurately reading her mind. ‘But this way is far less… complicated. You see, Chloe, when you left me, you did far more than simply break up our marriage. In Greece we take such things seriously, and for a woman to leave her husband casts a slur upon him that is not easily removed.’

  ‘So what am I supposed to do? Tell everyone that I didn’t mean it and that you’re really Mr Wonderful?’ Her lip curled. ‘You’ve overreached yourself, Leon. The moment you let me leave this island I’ll leave you again, and if you keep me incarcerated here no one is going to believe the fallacy that we’re reunited.’ She lifted her head and stared proudly at him. ‘The only way I would conceive your child would be if you forced yourself upon me—I’m talking about rape, Leon, because that is what it would be. I don’t want you, and I don’t want your child!’

  ‘Why, you….’

  For a moment Chloe thought he was going to hit her, but the hand he had raised dropped to his side, only the muscle working in his jaw betraying the savagery of the emotions she had aroused. Chloe wanted to look away, but something prevented her. Sickness clawed at her stomach, all that she had fought to suppress for so long rising to the surface, making her shudder with remembered revulsion.

  Leon came towards her, his fingers bruising the tender flesh of her arms as he wrenched her round into the light, his glance travelling slowly over her body, stripping from it the brief protection of her nightgown.

  ‘Last night my servants undressed you and put you to bed. They know nothing of our relationship except that we have been separated and are now together. Tonight and for as many nights as it takes until you carry my child we will share this room and this bed. I have your passport, Chloe, and without that you are virtually my prisoner whether we remain on this island or live in the middle of Athens.’

  It was true, so true that Chloe sobbed out bitterly, ‘And Marisa—where does she fit into all this? Does she have no say in the matter? About your plans to become a father? Or have you forgotten that she destroyed our first child?’

  This time he did hit her. Shock rather than pain made her reel, her eyes widening. Above her Leon’s face was nearly as pale as her own, the bones standing out sharply.

  ‘You will never say that again,’ he said thickly. ‘Do you understand me? Never! Marisa….’

  He never finished what he was going to say, for the door swung open and a young Greek girl burst impetuously in, her eyes hardening as she saw Chloe.

  ‘What’s she doing here?’ she spat viciously. ‘Leon, you….’

  Her long fingernails were painted dark red to match the glossy lipstick emphasising the sullen pout of a mouth curved with sensual promise.

  Three years ago, when Leon had mentioned to her his half-sister for whom he was responsible, Chloe had visualised a shy, gawky teenager—a girl with whom she could be friends; a girl who might perhaps need her guidance and affection, but Marisa needed nothing from her brother’s wife, unless it was the protection of her presence to deceive the world as Chloe herself had once been deceived. Her hands went to her stomach in unthinking protection long before she remembered that there was now no vulnerable life there for her to protect.

  Marisa’s eyes followed the gesture, narrowing with bitter fury as she rounded on Leon.

  ‘What is she doing here? Why….’

  The arm he had slid round Chloe’s waist felt like a steel hawser. She tried to pull away. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her hair, but she deliberately turned away from it, sickened by the falsity of the tableau. It was plain that Marisa knew nothing about her own presence here on Eos, and Chloe could only surmise that Leon was insisting on the resumption of their marriage to protect the younger girl. Not that Marisa herself cared the slightest about public opinion. She would have lived openly with Leon. She had told Chloe as much. It was Leon who had insisted that they must observe the conventions. Leon who had decided to find himself a quiet, biddable wife, too naïve to see what was happening under her eyes. And she had been that wife. Until Marisa, in a fit of jealousy had opened her eyes to the truth.

  ‘Why? Because it is necessary.’

  When Leon spoke in that tone even Marisa did not dare to argue. Chloe could see the baffled rage in her eyes and wondered if perhaps Leon was subtly punishing the Greek girl. Her suspicions were reinforced when Leon’s free hand cupped her jáw, forcing her head round in a grip that looked casual, but which in actual fact was anything but. Her bones ached from the pressure of his hold. ‘Isn’t it, Chloe?’

  He whispered the question a hair’s breadth from her lips in a gesture deliberately sensual. She tried not to succumb to it, but it was there in her eyes and the sudden tensing of her muscles, betraying her far more effectively than any words, and she knew from the sudden alert gleam in Leon’s eyes that he knew she was aware of him. It seemed to Chloe, her senses heightened by the emotional violence in the air of the room, that he was holding her more closely that he had been doing; that he was deliberately moulding her body to his in a way he hadn’t been doing before, so that she was intimately aware of him. It had been like this the first time they met. Leon had come to a viewing. She had been modelling an evening gown, had looked up and seen him, and it had been as though he had reached out and touched her. In the years they had been apart she had convinced herself that now she was immune to that sort of deliberate sexual arousal, but now, with his fingers tracing her spine, his body making her aware of the fact that physically she still aroused him, Chloe knew that she was still desperately vulnerable.

  She closed her eyes, swallowing painfully, and when she opened them again Leon was watching her like a cat at a mousehole. For a second she thought he was going to kiss her, and moistened her lips instinctively, trembling convulsively as his free hand pushed her hair behind her ears. Was he remembering, as she was, how he had woken her in the mornings of their honeymoon with teasing kisses placed in the soft hollows behind her ears, tracing a path along the vulnerable line of her throat, down to her breasts when, inevitably, her fingers would curl into the thick darkness of his hair, urging him against the flesh he had aroused so thoroughly?

  God, she mustn’t think about that! About how she had felt; how she had ached for his possession. She must remember afterwards, when she had learned about Marisa.

  The slamming of her bedroom door brought her back to earth. Marisa had gone and they were alone. Leon released her coolly, his glance mockingly aware of the response he had drawn from her.

  ‘You are still my wife, Chloe,’ he reminded her. ‘And in Greece a man’s wife is still his possession, to do with as he wishes.’

  ‘And we both know what you wish to do with me,’ Chloe said bitterly. ‘Impregnate me with your child. Why, Leon?’

  He shrugged. ‘All men want sons, do they not? It is a law of nature. I am a rich man and must have heirs of my body to follow after me. You are my wife….’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake stop saying that! We both know why I’m your wife; why you married me….’

  Before Leon could reply, the same man who had escorted her from the helicopter the previous evening knocked on the door, which Leon had started to open. Leon moved immediately, shielding Chloe with the bulk of his body, as the other man, who was apparently his personal assistant, explained that there was a call from New York.

  ‘Do
n’t try to leave,’ Leon warned Chloe before he left, ‘because you can’t. Even if you managed to leave this island—which you could only do by swimming—I still have your passport.’

  What on earth the staff must make of the situation she dared not think, Chloe reflected ten minutes later, standing under the needle-sharp spray of the shower in the bathroom which led off her bedroom. Decorated in the same colours as the bedroom, it had a huge round bath, sunk into the floor and surrounded by soft green marble tiles. As Chloe reached for one of the soft silver-grey towels she caught sight of her naked body in the mirror-lined wall. Already faint bruises were beginning to form where Leon had gripped her. Even now she could not believe that she was actually here on Eos, Leon’s prisoner. Her eyes went instinctively to the open bathroom door and the bed beyond it. Leon had talked about them sharing it as matter-of-factly as though they were two strangers contemplating sharing a taxi. A frisson of awareness shivered through her as she remembered how she had felt in his arms. By rights she ought to feel indifference if not outright hatred, but while her mind might reject and be repulsed by Leon’s cynical attitude her body could still be physically aroused by him.

  A woman never forgot her first lover. Chloe shivered as she remembered reading that somewhere. It was true; almost as though Leon’s touch was a secret code to which her body would always respond.

  Dressed in the change of clothes she had expected to be wearing in Athens, Chloe tried to reason with herself. She was not a mindless machine. There was such a thing as free will. Surely her mind was capable of overcoming her body’s weakness? Of course it was. Hadn’t she proved that during these last two years? Abstinence was easy without temptation, a tiny inner voice warned her, but Chloe refused to heed it. The love she had once thought she felt for Leon had died, and the emotions she was now experiencing were merely reaction to his sudden eruption into her life.

  Unbidden, the memory of Leon’s expression when he told her that he wanted from her the child she had previously denied him surfaced, and she shivered despite the heat. How could Leon have accused her of that? Her mouth twisted. Perhaps it was just another example of his warped way of thinking. A man who was capable of seducing his young half-sister and then marrying someone else purely to provide a cover for their affair was surely capable of anything. And yet Chloe could have sworn that for a moment there had been actual pain in his voice when he spoke of the child she was to have borne; the child Marisa had destroyed in a fit of jealous rage, but then Leon had always refused to believe that Marisa had been responsible for her fall. During the early months of their marriage—before she learned the truth—Chloe had never been able to understand how a man as intelligent as Leon could so readily accept Marisa’s lies; and there had been many of them. Not important on the surface perhaps, but hurtful and barbed, intentionally aimed at putting Chloe in a bad light. But then of course she had not realised that Marisa viewed her not in the light of an older sister-in-law but with all the intense jealousy of a rival for the attentions of the man she loved. And of course Marisa had the advantage of having a double claim on Leon—as his half-sister and as his mistress.

  Chloe pulled a wry face. Mistress! How old-fashioned it sounded; how full of connotations no longer considered important by sophisticates. But some shibboleths still held as strong a sway on people’s emotions as they had always done, and incest was one of the few remaining taboos. By Greek standards Leon had committed the unforgivable sin. In Greek eyes there was no greater responsibility than that owed by a man to his sisters. By rights Marisa should have been married long before now. She was, after all, twenty-two. But then Marisa would never marry. She had told Chloe that herself, the day she had told her so much, including the fact that she and Leon were lovers and had been for several years.

  ‘Chloe!’

  She hadn’t heard Leon enter the room. In addition to completing his telephone call he had changed his clothes and was now wearing jeans and a thin cotton shirt which clung to the powerful muscles of his shoulders. Pain as sharp as a splinter of ice entering her heart lanced through Chloe. So had he dressed during those all too brief weeks of their honeymoon when she had still believed that she was the one who he loved; when her own fears had been that she, with her innocence and sheltered upbringing, would prove to be an unworthy companion of so sophisticated and experienced a man.

  She remembered how, when she had tried to put her doubts into words, Leon had silenced her with drugging kisses. Her innocence only endeared her to him all the more, he had told her in the husky voice that never failed to thrill her. All that she needed to learn she would learn from him. As Marisa had learned!

  ‘What do you want, Leon?’ The words sounded sharply shrill—defensive, and Chloe regretted them instantly. Anger flared smokily in Leon’s eyes and she knew that she had annoyed him. Even in those early days she had recognised that Leon was a man of strong will. When she had remonstrated with him, saying that they had hardly known one another long enough to talk about marriage, he had simply crushed her objections beneath the warmth of his lips, overriding her fears by arousing her emotions to such a pitch that she could deny him nothing. And he had known it. How he must have laughed at her! Thoughts which she had never allowed herself to examine properly before refused to be banished any longer, and Chloe writhed inwardly in recognition of how easy she had made it for Leon. She hadn’t even had the wit to try and hide from him how she felt. He could have seduced her as easily as he had no doubt seduced Marisa and she wouldn’t have raised the slightest objection. Perhaps it would have better had he done so. An affair was easier to leave behind than a marriage.

  ‘You know what I want—a son to replace the one you destroyed. And you will give me one, Chloe.’

  ‘And Marisa—does she know of this sudden compulsive desire? I know how you feel about her, Leon, and how she feels about you. What are you planning to do? Divorce me once I’ve borne this son you want so badly?’

  ‘I was intending to fly to Athens this morning,’ Leon commented, changing the subject. ‘But my appointment has been cancelled, so I shall show you round the villa instead. My meeting was an important one, but my associate understood that it would not be possible for me to visit his office, having been so recently reunited with my wife.’

  The words held a subtle threat, but Chloe refused to acknowledge it, or to look upwards at Leon who she knew was watching her.

  ‘As my wife you will now have to take up certain responsibilities. We shall be expected to do a certain amount of entertaining, so it is as well that you familiarise yourself with the layout of the villa.’

  Entertaining! Now Chloe did look at him. In the tanned harshness of his face, his eyes stood out like sharp pieces of flint.

  ‘You would take such a risk? I’m not a child to be ordered about any more, Leon—you no longer hold me in thrall. I’ve grown up. You might be able to hold me on this island against my will, but you can’t stop me telling your friends what you’re doing. Once before you used me—you’re not going to do it a second time.’

  Chloe could tell by his expression that she had hit home, but the anger she could see burning behind the watchful glitter of his eyes was quickly masked, his voice cool with malice as he drawled softly, ‘Go ahead and tell them—they won’t care. In Greece a man’s wife is his property to do with as he wishes. They will laugh at you, Chloe, if you dare to complain—laugh and praise me for treating you as an errant wife should be treated. Indeed, many of them will think your punishment extremely light. Greek men do not have Western scruples about striking women. Oh, it’s all right,’ he sneered when Chloe flinched back. ‘Physical domination holds no appeal for me.’

  His open mockery made Chloe clench her fists at her sides. ‘You dare to say that?’ she stormed bitterly. ‘When not five minutes ago you were telling me that you were going to force your child upon me….’

  ‘Force?’ His gaze sharpened, narrowing on the betraying rise and fall of her breasts beneath the fine lawn of
her blouse. ‘You keep using that word, but I seem to recall that “force” was never necessary between us, Chloe—far from it.’ As he spoke his fingers reached for her wrist, circling it, his thumb lazily stroking the tender inner flesh with sensual expertise. ‘Well?’

  Her mouth dry, Chloe tried to find the words to deny his mocking assertion, but Leon was already drawing her close to him, his free hand pulling her cotton blouse from the waistband of the matching patterned skirt she was wearing with it.

  Her muscles clenched in protest as his fingers traced the sensitive bones of her spine, reaching upwards to slip under the brief lacy bra she was wearing before she could take evasive action.

  ‘Leon!’ Her sharp protest was smothered by her own shocked gasp as his hand slid forward to cup the warm fullness of her breast.

  ‘Is this what you call force, Chloe?’ he demanded softly, his lean, experienced fingers stroking and teasing her nipple until awareness of its burgeoning hardness washed over her body in a heated wave.

  ‘Stop it. Stop it!’ She lifted her hands to push him away, but all her action did was to lift and tauten her breasts until they were clearly defined beneath the thin cotton—and with them her obvious arousal.

  Damn Leon, she thought impotently, not daring to lift her eyes for fear of the open mockery she would see in his. What duplicity men were capable of! Leon loved Marisa, and yet here he was fully intent on and capable of making love to her!

  ‘I won’t do it, Leon,’ she said in distaste. ‘I won’t be forced into despising myself—into giving you a child to satisfy some primitive paternalistic urge. You might be able to arouse me physically, but….’

  ‘But you hate yourself for allowing it to happen?’ Leon jeered. ‘What happened to the girl I married, Chloe? The girl who gave herself to me so willingly; who revelled in my possession of her body?’

  ‘She doesn’t exist any more,’ Chloe said tonelessly, refusing to allow his words to affect her.

  ‘No?’