Bride by Day

by Rebecca Winters

  “For years I hated you because I thought you didn’t want me. I learned that you were living in Sicily, and I told myself I didn’t care. But I realize that my hate was just a defense to prevent me from looking for you. The fear that you’d reject me was too great. Please—Don’t go,” she begged.

  “Thank God you said that.”

  She watched her father stand there and weep. It was too much. When he held out his arms, she didn’t hesitate to move into them.

  “It’s incredible,” he murmured. “I have a little girl, only she’s a beautiful, grown woman.”

  Sam couldn’t talk. She was too dissolved in tears.

  “Do you have a car, Jules?”

  He had to clear his throat several times before addressing Perseus. “Yes. I rented one. It’s at the Athenian where I’m staying.” He looked down at Sam. “Much as I hate letting you out of my sight, it might be better if you go home with your husband. I’ll meet you there after I’ve had a shower. I’ve been waiting for you all day, and need to freshen up.”

  “All day?”

  His smile was one of her father’s most attractive traits. “Your housekeeper said you were out sailing today, but she had no idea when you would return to port. I wasn’t about to take any chances on missing you.”

  Sam wiped her eyes with her palms. “If you hadn’t seen that picture in the newspaper, we might never have met.”

  “I don’t even want to think about it,” her father said rather emotionally, then gave her another hug before he let her go and swiftly turned to leave.

  “Don’t take too long,” Sam cried out.

  Her father waved before breaking into a run.

  Perseus stood a little ways apart from Sam, eyeing her through hooded eyes. “Your father was trying to do the right thing when he suggested that you come back to the villa with me. But I saw the way he was looking at you. If you’d rather join him at the hotel for a private reunion, I have no doubts he’d be overjoyed.”

  “He acted happy, didn’t he?” Her voice came out more like a croak.

  “That’s the understatement of all time,” he drawled.

  She flushed. “Still—I think he needs a little time to assimilate everything.”

  “And you?”

  “I-I’ve always known he was alive. Twenty-four years has given me a lot of lead time, whereas h-he has only known he had a daughter since yesterday.” She lowered her head. “Perseus—Forgive me for accusing you of trying to manipulate my life. I said awful things to you last night.”

  He picked up their bags and urged her forward. “Don’t ask my forgiveness, Samantha. A few more weeks and you would have had every right to be furious with me, so we won’t speak of it again.”

  Her head jerked around. “You mean you were going to try to find him?”

  “Yes.” Again, his blunt honesty caught her off guard.

  They walked to the car where Yanni stood waiting. While Perseus stowed their bags in the trunk, she asked Yanni for the letter she’d given him.

  Once she and Perseus were ensconced in the back seat, Yanni started the car and they were off.

  She felt her husband’s eyes on the letter in her hands. “It seems we’re both still capable of surprising each other.”

  A wave of heat enveloped her body. “I wasn’t quite in my right mind when I wrote this. Here.” She held it out to him.

  He shook his head. “I know how you think, and I understand your motives. Throw it away, Samantha.”

  She crumpled it up in her palm. “I shouldn’t have questioned yours,” she whispered in a shaky voice.

  “But you did. In fact you’re still bristling with resentment. All right, Kyria. To satisfy your curiosity—when we were in your apartment and I told you I would grant you three wishes, your behavior led me to believe there was a fourth wish, one you refused to voice aloud.

  “After you saw the painting in my bedroom, and I witnessed the depth of your pain where your father is concerned, it came as a revelation that his absence from your life has always held the key to your rather complicated psyche.”

  Perseus understood her better than she did herself.

  “I had to wait twenty years for answers which I badly needed, and thought if I could spare you even one more day of wasted energy in that department, I would.”

  A heavy sigh escaped her lips, another regret because she’d doubted him.

  “Thank you for explaining. The truth is, initially I might have been angry with you, but I would have gotten over it. Meeting my father...realizing that this has all come as a shock to him... Well—it puts an entirely different complexion on everything.”

  A strong, suntanned hand reached out and covered hers. “One of your sterling qualities is your generous heart, Kyria.”

  “But I should have had more trust,” she blurted, not ready to forgive herself.

  He squeezed her hand gently. “The important thing is that you found out you are wanted and loved. No human can ask for more than that.”

  The huskiness in his voice betrayed him, plunging her into a deeper abyss. Perseus was referring to Sofia as well as her own father. Just thinking of the other woman, let alone imagining her in Perseus’s arms, was unbearable. Sam didn’t know she was capable of this kind of jealousy, an emotion unworthy of her, but she couldn’t seem to help it.

  Wanting to make absolution for her wretched thoughts she ventured, “If you’d like, we could have a small dinner party before we leave for New York.”

  Clearly she’d surprised him. “You want to do this to honor your father?”

  “Actually, I was thinking of you and Sofia,” she said in a quiet voice so Yanni couldn’t hear. “It must be agony for you to be contemplating our move to New York. If she were seen at the villa in the company of a few close friends, no one would think anything about it. At some point in the evening, you could find yourselves alone a-and say your goodbyes in private.

  “I’m sure eleven months’ separation is going to feel like an eternity to both of you.” The last came out a little jerkily. How she hated it when she lost control of her voice.

  His love for Sofia was so great, he probably didn’t realize he was crushing her hand in reaction. “Again, your generosity astounds me,” he murmured, sounding so remote she knew he was imagining himself on their private beach, covering Sofia’s body with his own.

  She stared out the window, but couldn’t stop those pictures from filling her mind. Perseus must have been having the same trouble because he suddenly let go of her hand, as if he couldn’t bear anyone’s touch but Sofia’s.

  Bereft of his emotional and physical comfort, Sam was counting the minutes until she could reach the privacy of her own room and give in to the feelings swamping her.

  Being reunited with her father had contributed a huge amount to her highly emotional state. But she couldn’t lie to herself any longer. Knowing that Perseus would never love her, make love to her, was the most catastrophic thing that had ever happened to her.

  She could see nothing in her future but a devastating emptiness. There was only one Perseus Kostopoulos. She could search to and fro, over the face of the whole earth, and never find his equal. No other man could even come close.

  Whom did she think she was kidding when she’d told herself she could get on with her old life once they’d returned to New York. What a joke!

  What an absurd joke.

  Then another devastating thought inserted itself. It was entirely possible Perseus knew how she felt about him. Dear God.

  She and Perseus had never slept together, never consummated their marriage, though on several occasions they’d come close. But it had always been Perseus who pulled away first, because he knew that an annulment would ensure that he could turn right around and marry Sofia the next day.

  A divorce could take months beyond Sofia’s period of mourning, a risk Perseus had no desire to take after waiting so long...

  Because he was such a decent man, that was probably the real
reason he’d intended on trying to get her and her father together. Who better to cling to? Who better to help her heal from the loss after he let her go for good?

  But in that assumption Perseus was wrong!

  Whatever the future held in store for her and father, he’d been leading his own life for close to sixty years. Obviously this woman, Anna, was the love in his life now. Things weren’t going to change because he’d discovered that he had a daughter. Except that she was hoping they would develop a close relationship over the coming years.

  But nothing, or no one, could repair the damage from losing Perseus. He filled more than a hole in her heart. He had possession of the whole thing.

  Somehow her career was going to have to be the miracle cure for helping her deal with her grief. Perseus had said she could get started on it as soon as they reached New York. If she—

  “Samantha?”

  She whipped her head around, wondering how long he’d been trying to get her attention.

  “Yes?” she answered tentatively.

  “You’re concern over Sofia’s and my feelings is laudable. But I’m afraid that giving a dinner party on the pretext of throwing the two of us together is out of the question.”

  “Because a person in mourning isn’t allowed to go out?” Sam couldn’t imagine such an absurd custom.

  “No, Kyria. Sofia left unfinished business in Turkey. She’s returning there tomorrow.”

  How did he know that? Had he been on the phone with her?

  Her hand tortured the armrest. Sam—you’ve got to stop this. What he does out of your sight is none of your business.

  “H-how long will she be gone, do you think?”

  “I presume for as long as it takes.”

  The remoteness of his tone made Sam shudder. He had to be going through another hell right now, knowing she’d be leaving Greece tomorrow.

  Her thoughts were working fast and furiously. She doubted Yanni could follow any of their conversation, being separated as they were in the car, plus the fact that he only knew the basic rudiments of English. But to make sure, she turned and nestled closer to Perseus, as if she were about to kiss him.

  “Perseus—” she whispered near his ear, “when we get home, why don’t you give all the help the night off. Everybody. Then I’ll go for Sofia and bring her back to the villa with me. Surely there’d be nothing wrong with two women being together. My father and I could go out on the beach for our talk, leaving you and Sofia alone for a while. It isn’t fair that she go away again withou—”

  “What you’re suggesting is impossible.” He cut her off, his chest heaving from the force of his emotions held barely in check. “Does this self-sacrificing streak of yours have limits, Kyria? Or do I dare wish that you would offer me your arms for the solace I seek, but cannot find,” he ground out.

  By the time she’d digested what he’d just said, his mouth had captured hers with smothering force, demanding a response she would have given him because she couldn’t help herself, if she hadn’t known he was taking out his frustrations on her.

  Perseus began kissing her with a depth of passion she had no idea existed. But a little voice inside cried that this passion existed for another woman, not Sam.

  Talking about Sofia had been exactly the wrong thing to do. Because she’d meddled in his personal life and had attempted to get the two of them together, Sam had fueled the fire of his suppressed longing for the woman he loved above all else.

  Yanni could be forgiven for thinking Perseus couldn’t wait to get home to make love to his wife. But Sam knew this total ravishment of her senses was a form of punishment because Perseus held the wrong woman in his arms. She’d unwittingly aroused the sleeping tiger, and now she must pay the price.

  But it was a divine price...

  Every kiss grew deeper until she couldn’t remember ever doing anything else. Drugged by the sensations his hands and mouth created, she could feel herself slipping into that dangerous zone of sensual pleasure where there was no right or wrong. Only need remained, a powerful need that forgot honor or propriety.

  “Perseus—” she gasped when his mouth left hers to kiss her throat where the scent of her perfume lingered. “What will Yanni think?” Her voice came out slurred.

  “Exactly what I want him to think,” he whispered against her velvet skin, defeating her little moan of protest.

  “But we’re home.” She was fighting his lips in earnest now. “My father will be arriving at any moment.”

  “All he’ll think is that we’re happily married, and desperately in love.”

  “But we’re not!” With a tiny cry she pushed her palms against the solid wall of his chest.

  Maybe she’d gotten through to him because his hands finally slid down her arms and fell away. “I refuse to give my father the wrong impression. He needs to know why we married in the first place, so he won’t be shocked when we’re no longer together next summer.”

  On that note of finality, she dashed from the car and into the house before she broke down and confessed her guilty secret, that she’d fallen irrevocably in love with him.

  While she slipped out of her clothes and showered, she relived those moments in his arms. When she emerged minutes later to brush her hair till it gleamed, her body was still on fire from his touch. Tonight he’d transported her to a point where there would have been no turning back if she’d allowed the insanity to continue another second.

  It was insanity, on both their parts. His, because his pain over Sofia’s imminent departure had become so excruciating. Hers, because she hadn’t taken steps to prevent this kind of thing from happening.

  It was her fault. Every bit of it. She’d asked Yanni for the letter back instead of waiting until she could find him alone. That letter had sent Perseus over the edge. When she’d brushed up against him to suggest she bring Sofia to the house, Perseus had retaliated, totally unaware of her love for him.

  Well...there’d be no repeat performance of that shatteringly sensual experience, she chastised herself furiously as she slipped into a periwinkle-blue cotton sundress with spaghetti straps.

  In the morning they were leaving for New York and a new life which she planned would be so filled with purpose and hectic, she and Perseus would rarely see each other, let alone find time for anything to happen of such an earthshaking nature as tonight’s episode in the car.

  While she was putting on her white sandals she heard a knock on the door. Sam’s heartbeat tripled because she thought it was Perseus. Instead it was Ariadne calling out to inform Sam that her father had arrived and was waiting for her in the salon.

  “I’ll be right there,” she answered back, thanking heaven that she had a father who’d come looking for her as soon as he’d known of her existence. Especially now, at this precarious moment in her life when she needed a buffer against Perseus’s powerful charisma. It was almost like divine intervention.

  The feeling persisted when she rushed into the salon a minute later to be embraced once more by her attractive parent who’d come in a pastel blue suit and paisley tie, something he said he rarely wore, in honor of this occasion which was the happiest moment of his life.

  That comment started the tears flowing once more. Though Sam’s mother wasn’t a toucher by nature, her father more than made up for it. He was obviously a demonstrative man whose emotions ran deep and clamored to find expression through his fabulous paintings.

  Perseus hadn’t made an appearance yet. Sam had an idea he was purposely giving her and her father a chance to really get acquainted before they ate dinner.

  For a few minutes they delighted in making a visual exploration of each other, picking out all the physical similarities that announced their blood bond. Soon their conversation turned to those behavioral traits they had in common, like the way they cocked their head to the left side, the broadness of their smiles, their discomfiture with large crowds, their reticence to share their problems with others, their need to be alone when they wo
rked out a problem.

  “You two have a great deal more in common than that,” a deep masculine voice suddenly interjected.

  How long had Perseus been standing there listening while they were engrossed in conversation on the long, white sectional couch near the windows?

  Sam’s head whirled around. To her shock, he’d brought all of her tablecloths and fabric samples with him. They were draped over his arms.

  “When we first met, I found these in Sam’s bedroom closet,” he announced without shame, uncaring that her father would get the wrong idea completely about her relationship with Perseus before their marriage. “I told her she had a spark of genius in her. What I didn’t know then was that she had the blood of Jules Gregory running through her veins.”

  “Let me see those.” Her father got up from the couch and began scrutinizing everything Perseus had laid out over the chairs. She found herself holding her breath. “Honey—your husband’s right.” He sounded really excited.

  “Your work reminds me a little of a Matisse painting, but it’s all original, all your own brilliant style. Your use of rich color is nothing short of phenomenal.” He turned his dark-blond head to look at her. In a voice full of tears he said, “I’m so proud of you, I feel like I’m going to burst.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, absolutely positive a human being couldn’t contain this much happiness and not explode, especially after a compliment like that coming from her famous father.

  “This is only the tip of the iceberg.” Perseus continued to speak to him without a shred of modesty for her.

  “She has designed our entire yard and garden. I have no doubts that when all her plans come to fruition, my villa will be a showplace everyone in the Cyclades will stop by to visit. We’ll have to charge admission.”

  At that statement her father burst into hearty laughter and Sam joined him. Perseus was smiling, even with his eyes, a sight she rarely saw.

  “Before long,” her husband went on undaunted, “she’ll be besieged by people wanting her to landscape their yards. However, that’s not her latest claim to fame.”