A Baby on the Greek's Doorstep

by Lynne Graham

  * * *

  Almost a month later, Pixie watched Tor climb, still dripping, from the pool, after the acrobatics he had performed there to entertain Alfie, and cross the main deck to speak to the yacht captain, a bearded man currently sporting an apologetic smile.

  While they were chatting she lifted Alfie, who was already half-asleep, and moved down to the cabin where her son was sleeping to change him and put him in his crib for a nap. Their nanny, Isla, was probably sunbathing on the top deck because Pixie and Tor usually kept Alfie with them in the mornings. She went for a shower and was towelling herself dry when Tor reappeared in the doorway.

  ‘We have an unscheduled stop to make this evening to take on supplies. While the crew are dealing with stocking up, we’ll be enjoying a sheltered cove and dining in a restaurant which the captain assures me is a hidden gem,’ he related lazily as he peeled off his shorts.

  Heat mushroomed in her pelvis as she watched and dimly wondered if she would ever become accustomed to Tor’s utterly stunning masculine beauty. His gleaming bronzed gaze struck hers and she stilled, her heartbeat quickening, her breath catching in her throat. ‘Se thelo,’ he breathed, thick and low.

  I want you—one little Greek phrase she had become hugely familiar with over the past four weeks.

  Hunger lightening his eyes to gold, he reached for her, disposing of the towel with an aggressive jerk to release her small body from its folds and hauling her up against his hard, hot length.

  ‘I always want you,’ he breathed with a slight frown, as if he couldn’t quite work out why that should be so. ‘You’re turning me into a sex addict.’

  Pixie flushed, knowing that she matched him there. She couldn’t keep her hands off him, couldn’t back off from the allure of that raw masculine magnetism he emanated if her life depended on it. It flared in her every time she looked at him, every time he reached for her, like a flame that had only been fed into a blaze by constant proximity. A month was a long time for a couple to be alone together, she acknowledged, just a little sad that they would be returning to London the following day. It had been a wonderful holiday though, her honeymoon, something she had not been quite sure it was when they’d first set sail on their wedding night. But they had both needed that time and space to get to know each other on a deeper level and it had worked. Tor had probably planned it that way, she conceded, having finally come to understand that Tor planned most things. It was just the way he operated. Only with sex was Tor spontaneous or impulsive.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Tor husked as he backed her into the cabin again, all hungry predatory resolve and indescribably sexy in the role.

  ‘Absolutely nothing,’ she told him truthfully, because she reckoned that she would have to be a very demanding person to want more from him than she already had, and she refused to allow herself to feel discontented.

  He spread her out on the bed and she tingled all over, her skin prickling with high-voltage awareness and anticipation as he feathered his sensual mouth over her protuberant nipples, making her moan. He stroked a provocative fingertip between her legs, where she was already swollen and damp, and a fierce smile of satisfaction slanted his lean, darkly handsome features. Without any further preamble, he thrust into her hard and fast and a shot of dynamite pleasure ravaged her pliant body. His compelling rhythm sent her to a stormy height of need faster than she would have believed. It was good, it was so good she climaxed crying out his name...and something else. ‘I love you!’ she gasped, just seconds before her brain could kick in again and make her swallow those words.

  And Tor said...nothing. Pixie told herself that possibly he hadn’t heard or that he was just politely ignoring that accidental word spillage of hers and that that was better than forcing her to discuss the issue. For Tor would see that declaration as an issue, not a benefit, not a compliment, not something he should treasure and be grateful for. In turmoil, she turned away from him, her face literally burning with mortification and a sense of humiliation. Why? Why had she had to let those words escape?

  Maybe it was pathetic to be so happy with a guy who didn’t love her when deep down inside her there was still this dangerous nagging need to have more from him and, of course, it bothered her. After all, love couldn’t be turned on like a magic tap by anyone but perhaps, over time, Tor would come to care for her more, she had recently soothed herself. Life wasn’t a fairy tale, Eloise had warned her, but, in truth, Pixie couldn’t help still yearning for the fairy tale.

  Yet at the same time, honesty lay at the very heart of her nature and she had wanted to share her feelings with Tor, give him that warmth and validation. After all, she knew for a fact that life could change in a moment with an accident, an illness, some other terrible event, and she needed to live in the moment. Secrets weren’t her style.

  It was true though that there were still little black holes in their relationship where she didn’t dare travel. He never ever talked about Katerina or Sofia, not even accidentally. It was as if he had locked that all up in some underground box on the night of the crash when he’d lost his wife and child and, sadly, only an excess of alcohol had unleashed his devastating emotional confessions the evening he and Pixie had first met. The rest of the time? Tor might as well have been a single man rather than a widower when she’d married him.

  Yet Tor had asked her so much about her parents and her childhood memories, had freely satisfied his own curiosity and it had brought them closer, of course it had. Why couldn’t he do the same for her when it came to his first marriage? His silence was a barrier that disturbed her. Why was he still holding back? It was because of her honesty that Tor now understood a great deal better why she was so attached to her half-brother, the boy who had stood up for her in the playground when other children had teased her about her diminutive size, the adult male who had comforted her after the death of their father and her mother by promising that he would always be there for her.

  ‘Need a shower,’ she muttered, pulling free of the arms anchored round her and heading for the bathroom as though her life depended on it because his silence hurt her. Was it possible that he was still in love with his dead wife? Or was she being fanciful?

  Tor rolled over and punched a pillow, perfect white teeth clenching now that Pixie was out of view. For a split second he was furious with her for putting him in that position. Just because he wasn’t prepared to lie, wasn’t prepared to pretend! Those three words were so easy to say, had routinely featured between him and Katerina and they had been absolutely meaningless and empty on her side.

  But was it fair to punish Pixie for Katerina’s lies and pretences?

  He froze as that possibility penetrated his brain for the very first time. He wasn’t punishing anybody, he roared defensively inside himself. He was simply insisting on a higher standard of honesty in their marriage, which meant that there would be a smaller chance of misunderstandings occurring between them. They needed a lot of things in a successful marriage, but love wasn’t a necessity, not as respect and loyalty and caring were, he reasoned in exasperation. Pixie was just young and rather naïve and had yet to grasp such fine distinctions. And it wasn’t as though believing that she loved him was likely to do her any harm, he rationalised, denying the warmth spreading through his chest and the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  * * *

  That evening Pixie dressed to go ashore for dinner in a glorious white sundress that flattered her new tan, her blond curls tumbling round her shoulders in abundance. Her wardrobe had expanded over the month because Tor had taken her to more than one exclusive shopping outlet where he had insisted on buying her stuff. Jewellery such as she had never expected to own sparkled in the diamonds at her ears and throat, the slender gold watch on her wrist, the glittering rings on her fingers. On the outside she looked like a rich woman; on the inside, though, she still felt like an imposter, she acknowledged unhappily. She had won Katerina’s place onl
y by the other woman’s death and an accidental conception. She was basically just Katerina’s imperfect replacement and even Alfie was only a replacement for the little girl who had died.

  The launch delivered her and Tor to a beach, where he insisted on carrying her across to the steps that wound up the cliff to where the restaurant sat. Pixie examined her feelings for him as he set her carefully down on the steps, so attentive, so honourable, so everything but not loving. How could she condemn him for that lack? she scolded herself sharply, annoyed that she was letting her own humiliation linger and twist her up to the detriment of their marriage. That was foolish, short-sighted, and in the light of that reflection she linked her arms round his neck before he could straighten and stretched up to kiss him. He didn’t have to love her because she loved him; they could get by fine as they were.

  Relief coursed through Tor, who had remained insanely conscious of how quiet and muted Pixie had become throughout the day. He didn’t know when he had become so attuned to her moods, but he noticed the instant the sparkle died in her eyes and she withdrew from him. It had disconcerted him to appreciate how much she could put him on edge. He smiled at her as he urged her up the steps, careful to stay behind her in case she stumbled in her high heels. They took seats out on the terrace with its panoramic view of the sea and had only received their menus when Tor swore softly in surprise under his breath.

  An older couple had walked out onto the terrace.

  ‘My godparents,’ he breathed. ‘Basil and Dimitra...not a happy coincidence.’

  ‘I think I dimly remember them from the wedding...but we didn’t actually speak,’ Pixie whispered. ‘Don’t you like them?’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Tor parried with a frown before he stood up to greet the other couple.

  Pixie rose as well, walking into a hail of Greek being exchanged and smiling valiantly. Dimitra introduced herself in easy English, explaining that she had grown up in London before moving to Greece in her teens, where she had gone to school with Tor’s mother, Pandora. Their meeting was not quite the coincidence Tor had stated, Pixie thought once she learned that the other couple owned a holiday home nearby. Tor insisted that the couple join them for their meal, and it passed pleasantly with talk of their cruise round the Greek islands until Tor became increasingly involved in talking business with his godfather. By the coffee stage, the men had shifted to the outside bar across the terrace and the two women were alone.

  ‘I feel guilty that we’ve intruded on your last night away.’ Dimitra sighed.

  ‘I’m really surprised that I didn’t get talking to you at the wedding when you’re so close to Hallas and Pandora,’ Pixie confided, wondering how that oversight had come about.

  ‘I suppose because we felt it would’ve been inappropriate to put ourselves forward too much. I wasn’t even sure about us accepting the invitation to your wedding,’ Dimitra admitted and, seeing Pixie’s frowning, puzzled look, added, ‘You don’t know, do you? Tor’s first wife was our daughter...’

  ‘Oh...’ Pixie whispered, bereft of breath by that revelation but equally quickly grasping the difficulties of that situation. ‘But you’re all still good friends, aren’t you?’

  ‘Of course, although it’s a shame that Tor chose to conceal the truth about their marriage,’ Dimitra shared in a troubled undertone. ‘After what he’d endured, we’ve never wanted to tackle that subject with him directly, but we’re straight-talking people and it would’ve been easier for us had he just admitted that our daughter was having an affair and that Sofia was not his. At first I was grateful for that silence but with such close friends I would’ve preferred the truth rather than feeling forced to live a lie.’

  Pixie settled startled eyes on the other woman, swiftly suppressing the shock of learning that Sofia had not, after all, been Tor’s child. ‘I don’t think Tor realises that you know.’

  ‘We knew. We tried hard to stop it, but we got nowhere. Katerina was obsessed with Devon.’

  Pixie’s brow furrowed. ‘Devon?’ she queried.

  ‘Sevastiano’s half-brother, Devon. Katerina called him Dev. Ironically, they met at a prewedding party Hallas and Pandora threw for Tor and my daughter. Devon was already married with two young children,’ Dimitra revealed heavily. ‘But once Tor and Katerina moved to London, where Devon lived, the fact that they were both married didn’t influence either of them and we didn’t know it was happening until two years after the marriage when we caught them together. It was on that horrible day that my daughter admitted that she was pregnant with Devon’s child. I won’t go into our feelings, but you can imagine how treacherous I felt when Pandora wept over the passing of a child who was not of their blood. But it was not our secret to tell.’

  And Tor hadn’t revealed that final secret even when he could have told it that first night they met, Pixie reflected painfully. Even more revealing was his silence on that score, a silence so complete, so unyielding over the entire sordid business that he had been erroneously blaming his brother, Sevastiano, for being his late wife’s lover when in fact it had not been him. How on earth had he contrived to get that wrong? Yet it served Tor right, a part of Pixie declared without sympathy. He had been far too busy hugging his damaged ego and his secrets, and Tor and his family had remained in dangerous ignorance long after the event. And that was very unhealthy, wasn’t it?

  A welter of differing thoughts and deductions assailed Pixie on the launch that wafted them back to the yacht. What she had learned from Dimitra had put her in an awkward position. She had to tell Tor not only that his former in-laws were already fully acquainted with their late daughter’s peccadilloes, but also that he had misjudged his brother, Sevastiano, who had not been Katerina’s lover. How could she keep quiet about such matters? They were too important to ignore yet too personal for her to want to tackle them...aside of that revelation about Sofia, who had not been Tor’s daughter, as he had led her to believe.

  But did Tor even know that Sofia had not been his child? It was perfectly possible that he didn’t know, Pixie reasoned uneasily. On the other hand, if he did know, Pixie believed that Tor should have told her—because such an issue did matter to the mother of the baby she had assumed to be his second child.

  However, if Dimitra was to be believed, Alfie was Tor’s firstborn, and if he had known that all along and kept quiet about it, deliberately misleading Pixie in relation to her son’s status, she did have a bone to pick with him. Just at that moment Pixie felt very tired of following in Katerina’s footsteps and suspecting that her beloved Alfie was a mere replacement for Tor’s lost daughter. All of a sudden that felt like a burning issue for her. But at the same time she was consumed by the awareness of what Tor must have suffered when he’d realised that the child he loved was not his child, and she felt quite sick at the prospect of having to broach that topic with him.

  ‘You’re very quiet. Did Dimitra say something that upset you? I didn’t intend to leave you alone. Basil had a tricky financial problem he wanted my advice on and I lost track of time.’

  ‘No, nothing she said upset me,’ Pixie lied, because she didn’t want him misinterpreting her meaning. ‘Although I could’ve done with you just biting the bullet and telling me that your godparents are your former in-laws. It’s not such a big deal.’

  ‘It feels awkward now that I’ve remarried,’ Tor countered a little stiffly. ‘Especially with all that happened five years ago. I’ve known them all my life but I’m aware that they feel uncomfortable as well. It’s unfortunate. They’re a lovely couple.’

  ‘Yes. I liked them,’ Pixie confided, on surer ground.

  ‘It’s a mystery to me why their daughters turned out as they did. Maybe they spoilt them, never told them no... I don’t know. I feel like I should know, though, when I grew up with them running around my home, but you have a different viewpoint as a child.’

  ‘I didn’t know there was another dau
ghter.’

  ‘Angelina. Didn’t you meet her at the wedding?’ Tor asked casually.

  ‘Oh, yes, I met her, but I didn’t realise the connection.’ Pixie understood Angelina’s bad attitude then, or thought she did: a sister being confronted by her dead sibling’s replacement bride and child. The brunette had been unpleasant but her identity granted her some excuse for her behaviour, in Pixie’s opinion.

  Her mind moved on as she mulled over Tor’s remark about it being a mystery how the Raptis daughters had turned out as they had. That was the closest he had ever come to criticising Katerina and it surprised her, for she had assumed that he still viewed his first wife as some kind of misunderstood martyr.

  ‘We have to talk when we get back,’ she breathed softly as Tor settled her down in a seat on the launch, having carried her across the beach to save her from the task of removing her shoes.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Stuff,’ she framed flatly.

  His ebony brows pleated, bronzed eyes narrowing with a dark glitter in the moonlight, and she thought how gorgeous his sculpted bone structure was and of the marvel that she was actually married to such a man. All that electrifying sexiness and caring and she was still finding fault? Was she crazy?

  CHAPTER TEN