When she glanced at him enquiringly, his lean dark features were clenched hard, his eyes shuttered. ‘I signed it over to my mother, although island life is too quiet for her tastes and I have been told that she only makes occasional use of the property. We flew over it coming in. It’s that sprawling marble monstrosity on the cliffs. Did you notice it?’

‘Yes...the villa with the massive pool area?’

Tight-mouthed, he nodded confirmation with a jerk of his stubborn chin and splayed a hand to the base of her slender spine to lead her through the trees. ‘Lunch should be waiting for us. I want you to eat and go straight to bed—’

‘I’m not an invalid. You know, you never even mentioned that you owned a house here in Greece,’ Betsy reminded him as the trees slowly thinned out and an ultra-modern and graceful white villa surrounded by gloriously colourful gardens appeared in front of them. ‘Especially one so beautiful. Why didn’t you suggest we come here for our honeymoon?’

Nik gritted his even white teeth together, reluctant to admit that his memories of his time on the island had haunted him for years. ‘I originally built the house solely as an investment I intended to sell but I never got around to it. To be frank, I left the island to go to boarding school and, after my grandfather died, I had no good reason to return here—’

‘So not much in the way of sentimental attachment to this place, then?’ Betsy guessed, recognising the taut flex of long fingers against her spine, aware that he was very uneasy beneath the barrage of her questions and wondering why.

But then that was Nik, a fascinatingly complex male, layered with mystery with nothing as you expected and no information granted for free. It had always been that way and she had learned to live with that wall of reserve. When they were first married she had walked in awe of him and his achievements, unable to understand why such a magnificently handsome, clever and wealthy male should choose to marry a lowly waitress when he might have married some rich socialite or successful businesswoman instead. She had never stopped being grateful that he had picked her, which was why she had never felt she had the right to complain when he left her alone so much.

Every paradise has thorns, she had thought, striving to be practical, knowing that many women would have been content simply to have a beautiful home and a string of credit cards at their disposal. Loving him to distraction, however, had made Betsy much greedier for his time and attention. Unfortunately she didn’t think any human being would ever engage his interest to the extent that his business empire did, and wishing for more from him was like wishing for the moon.

Even so, it was unfortunate that Nik’s former inability to grant her much of his personal time should have reminded Betsy of her years in foster care, when she had never been anyone’s priority and her needs had been more often a second thought rather than a first. Nik had left her isolated at Lavender Hall, much as she had been isolated in a series of foster homes without close connections to the other inhabitants or loving carers. In those days, she had wondered if she was inherently unlovable.

They walked into a cool white hall, decorated with lush plants, to be greeted by a pleasant middle-aged housekeeper called Stephania. At the foot of the winding elegant staircase, Nik bent and lifted Betsy into his arms, ignoring her protests.

‘No stairs for you,’ he pronounced drily. ‘If a dizzy spell hit you at the wrong moment you could have a nasty accident.’

‘You always think in worst-case scenarios,’ Betsy censured, amazed by the level of his pessimism while looking up at him to marvel at the length and lushness of his eyelashes, amused that she had to wear falsies to get even a hint of such luxuriance. It was wasted on him too, she thought abstractedly, for he was the least vain man she knew.

‘No, I’m taking sensible precautions for your benefit,’ Nik countered, reaching the wide decorative landing without an iota of breathlessness. But then in the wake of the doctor’s comments, Betsy didn’t think that carrying her could offer a well-built male much of a challenge.

The bedroom was a huge, dreamy space furnished with pale oak furniture, natural stone walls and draperies fluttering lightly at the open windows. Nik rested her down on a wide, sumptuously dressed bed.

Betsy rested her head approvingly back on a crisp white linen pillow. ‘This place reminds me of a five-star boutique hotel.’

Nik slipped off her shoes and a knock sounded on the door to herald the entrance of a maid with a tray. Betsy sat up against the banked pillows while Nik collected the tray. He handed her a fork and sat down on the side of the bed. ‘Eat before you sleep,’ he urged.

It was a chicken casserole and very good but his reference to sleep had roused her interest. ‘I was just wondering,’ Betsy began abruptly, putting curiosity ahead of tact when it came to what had once been a touchy subject. ‘Do you still suffer from the nightmares you used to get?’

Before her very eyes, Nik stiffened defensively, his bright eyes immediately veiling. ‘No. It seems that was just a phase. I was working too hard last year, not allowing myself enough downtime to chill,’ he parried with resolute cool.

‘You never would tell me what the nightmares were about,’ Betsy could not resist reminding him.

Nik shrugged a broad shoulder with careful unconcern. ‘Telling you about them would have given them undue importance and lodged them in my mind even deeper,’ he proffered in explanation. ‘I have always preferred not to dwell on negative events.’

He had removed his jacket and tie. Lean muscles flexed beneath his silk shirt as he reached for the tray when she finished eating and set it aside. He closed his hand over hers. ‘Now, you go to sleep.’

While she studied him with wondering blue eyes, his thumb caressed the soft inner skin of her wrist in a soothing motion and he lifted her hand, spread her fingers and pressed a kiss to her palm.

Her heart thumped in the smouldering silence, gooseflesh erupting on her exposed skin, tiny hairs rising at the nape of her neck while low in her pelvis she felt the sweet, all-pervasive tug of the hunger that only he could stir. Her breath shortened in her throat as she stared back at him. It was no use, his gut-wrenching sensuality plundered her defences like an invading army. That fast she wanted his mouth, wanted his hands on her body...and a great deal more. Colour blooming in her cheeks, she felt her nipples strain and push against the bodice of her dress while her thighs pressed together to ease the ache he had induced at the heart of her.

‘Later,’ Nik breathed with hoarse emphasis, sexual anticipation written boldly in every line of his hard, angular features and the blaze of his eyes. ‘If you sleep now, I’ll make a late-night banquet of you.’

Betsy was taken aback by that proposition. ‘But we...can’t—’

Nik rested a silencing fingertip against her parted lips. ‘Right at this moment the only thing that matters is that you get stronger and healthier. You don’t have to make any big permanent decisions while we’re here,’ he assured her with determined emphasis.

Her eyes opened very wide. ‘Sex isn’t a big decision?’

In answer, Nik flashed her a wickedly amused grin. It filled his lean, darkly beautiful features with such charisma that the roof could’ve fallen in without her noticing. ‘Not when we’re married and you’re already pregnant. What is the worst that could happen now?’ he drawled silkily. ‘That you might enjoy yourself?’

The warmth in her cheeks increased and she tore her gaze from his in self-protection, ashamed of her susceptibility. She had always enjoyed herself with him in bed. From the very first time to the very last time, sex with Nik had been a guaranteed passport to a wickedly seductive world of euphoric physical sensation. Long brown fingers gently circled her ankle and smoothed along the bare skin of her calf. A little tremor ran through her slight body and her lashes shot up again to focus on his lean, hard-boned face. In self-defence she closed her eyes but the predatory blaze of explosive hunger that had greeted her in his intense gaze was seared on the inside of her eyelids. Nik wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him. The awareness soothed her stinging pride but did nothing to assuage the flickers of eager warmth tingling through her lower body.

‘Allow me...’ Nik bent over her to run down the side zip on her dress and then without hesitation he gathered up the hem and lifted the garment off over her head.

‘What are you doing?’ Betsy whipped defensive hands over her bared breasts as they spilled free of the supportive bodice.

‘Tucking you in.’ Nik slid a hand below her hips to ease her free of the bedding, flipped it back and settled her down on the cool sheet. ‘Drop the modesty. Let me enjoy the view.’

Her heart beating very fast, Betsy lowered her hands, feeling a little foolish for that belated cover-up. After all, they were married. And he had already told her that they could have sex without him assuming that it meant they were reconciled. Could she take that cool, sensible stance too? Her every emotion battled against such a concept. But at the same time there was no way she was ready yet to give him a final answer on whether or not she believed they could rebuild their marriage.

‘There’s more of you now to appreciate and you were already beautiful, yineka mou,’ Nik husked, appraising the fuller contours of her small breasts before lowering his dark head to lick the lush, prominent peak of a swollen pink nipple while his fingers delicately shaped the new ripeness of her flesh. ‘This, however, is for your pleasure, not mine. I want you to relax.’

Her breath hitched in her dry throat and she slumped back against the pillows, weak with longing and more than willing to let him play with her treacherous body but very far from being in a relaxed state. He dallied with the straining buds, utilising every ounce of skill in his armoury to tease her sensitised flesh. Heat thrummed to another level between her slender, trembling thighs, while her hips shifted back and forth in a movement she couldn’t control. He tugged off her panties and leant back to slowly run his hands up the full length of her extended legs and ease them apart. Eyes hot on hers, he vented an appreciative masculine growl when his fingertips came into contact with the honeyed moisture coating her hidden core.

He drew her back into the hard heat of his taut, muscular body, covering her mouth with his. His tongue delved and explored and desire burned higher in Betsy than a firework shooting into the sky. Her hands clutched at his shoulders before lacing into his luxuriant black hair to hold him fast. He was a very sexy kisser. While he engaged her lips his hands roved until, freeing her mouth, he pulled her back against him and gently, softly, touched her between her trembling thighs.

Between one heartbeat and the next, her whole body became a mass of screaming nerve endings and she quivered and shook in response against him, her breath releasing in muffled sobs and gasps. Against her hip she could feel him hard and ready even through the barrier of his trousers. ‘Make love to me,’ she urged helplessly.

‘Later,’ Nik husked, burying his mouth against her exposed throat and licking and nipping at the sensitive cords of muscle pulling taut there to send another wave of painfully erotic stimulation through her already tormented body. ‘Come for me...’

His stubbled jawline rasped against her cheek as he touched her with aching expertise and suddenly there was nothing she could do about it, her body was racing for the finish line all on its own. A liquid flame ran through her as unstoppable as a tide and the tightness in her pelvis suddenly clenched and convulsed in an explosion of almost intolerable pleasure as spasm after spasm of ecstatic release gripped her.

Nik settled her limp length back against the pillows. ‘Now you sleep,’ he rasped.

Betsy’s face felt hot enough to fry eggs on and she didn’t open her eyes as he tugged the cool linen sheet over her hot, damp body. She was limp with shame at having succumbed to temptation and taken the pleasure he offered. Once again she had stomped all over her own most deeply held principles. But then hadn’t she always done that to keep Nik in her life? She had married a man who did not love her and from that moment on everything had become a compromise. In the same way, if they reconciled to raise their unborn children, she would never have the security of knowing herself loved and would have to live with the truth that only her fertility had brought him back to her.

And that was a toxic truth, she acknowledged painfully, one that would twist and grow inside her like Jack’s beanstalk and eventually smother her self-esteem. But if the only alternative was to stay separated and continue the divorce, would that be any easier? After all, with her being pregnant they could not have a clean break now. Could she live with Nik always on the periphery of her life as the father of her children? Look on with detachment when he eventually chose another woman to share his life?

Pain slammed through her in answer to that question. Her lashes lifted as she stole an anguished glance at his bold bronzed profile, insecurity clawing at her. For a split second she wanted his arms round her so badly it hurt. Later, she recalled, a little bubble of heat warming her chilled limbs at the promise of that word. And in the back of her mind, she cringed at what loving Nik had done to her pride. Would she only feel secure now when he demonstrated desire for her body?

CHAPTER EIGHT

OVER BREAKFAST ON the sunlit terrace the following morning, Betsy studied Nik’s lean bronzed face with its sleek yet hard-edged charisma, feminine appreciation sending prickles of awareness slivering through her pelvis. At the same time she was wondering why he hadn’t joined her in bed the previous night. She assumed it was because her long and very sound sleep had convinced him that her need for rest was more important.

‘So, what would you like to do today?’ Nik enquired lazily.

‘Obviously I want to see where you grew up...in fact every place on this island that’s associated with your childhood!’ Betsy confessed with helpless enthusiasm.

Seriously taken aback by that chirpy admission, Nik briefly froze. A split second later he concealed his reaction by forcing a transient smile to his lips while he scanned Betsy’s happy and relaxed expression. No, she had not the slightest suspicion that she had dropped a brick. And Vesos was, after all, where he had grown up. Her expectation that, having brought her here, he would want to share childhood experiences was simply normal. Acknowledging that truth, Nik cursed his decision to come to the island in the first place. Why hadn’t he just hired a villa somewhere? Vesos and this house had seemed the most sensible choice when they were already in Greece. But it had also been the very last place he had wanted to revisit, he reflected grudgingly.

Rising with something less than his usual grace from his seat, Nik stood gazing out through the trees towards the sea, mastering the powerful emotions threatening to roar through him like a hurricane, his broad back and wide shoulders rigid with tension. My mistake, he conceded heavily, and what could he do but play along to satisfy her natural curiosity? And why not when he was an adult now and no longer a weak and frightened child? Betsy wanted pretty, cosy pictures and he would give her pretty, cosy pictures, not the awful, pity-inducing truth.

‘You started school here?’ Betsy prompted over an hour later as she studied the small brick-built building beside the harbour and the young children playing outside with fascination.

Nik nodded and barely repressed a shudder. He thought of the bruising a teacher had once questioned and the lies he had been forced to tell to hide the reality of what went on within his own home. School had been difficult, not, of course, in academic terms but in the pain of the gradual dawning realisation that other children did not appear to suffer the treatment that he did. It had been a challenge for him to make friends, set apart as he was by his family’s wealth, even more of a challenge to play when he didn’t know how to play.

‘I really wish we could go and see your grandfather’s house—’ Betsy admitted.

No, no, no, no, Nik reflected sickly, nausea stirring at such a disturbing prospect.

‘But I know it’s your mother’s house now,’ Betsy allowed ruefully. ‘Couldn’t we drive past it?’

Nik was willing to settle for that less menacing suggestion. He drove along the coast road towards the cliffs.

‘Did you play on this beach?’

‘I was never allowed to leave the grounds of my grandfather’s home unless I had an adult with me,’ Nik fielded wryly, struggling to think of some single sunny recollection of his earliest years that would satisfy her desire to know more, but coming up with nothing.

Betsy peered at the house through the tall wrought-iron electric gates while Nik stared out through the windscreen without turning his dark head, lean brown hands flexing round the steering wheel of the sports car. ‘It’s an enormous place,’ she commented, glancing at him, wondering why he was so quiet and so... She struggled and failed to come up with an adequate label for his attitude. ‘Which bit of it did you live in?’

‘The wing furthest away from the gate,’ Nik related flatly. ‘It was entirely self-contained—my mother insisted on having her privacy.’

‘Were you happy here?’ Betsy prompted gently.

‘Of course I was,’ Nik lied.

* * *

‘So, when are we leaving?’ Betsy asked casually over dinner almost a week later.

Nik frowned and studied her with questioning green eyes clear as emeralds ringed by spiky black lashes. ‘Why would we be leaving?’

It was Betsy’s turn to be disconcerted. ‘Because we have to be back for Belle’s birthday party on Friday night,’ she pointed out.

‘I don’t see why,’ Nik countered, cradling his wine lazily in one lean, elegant hand. ‘We’ll send her a special present instead—’

Betsy stiffened. ‘No. I want to attend her party. I always assumed we’d be returning in time for it.’

Nik shrugged a broad shoulder while studying her with quiet satisfaction. Even in the short time they had spent on the island Betsy had blossomed. Her skin had acquired a light golden tint and her eyes were no longer shadowed. Her face was fuller, softer, the previous tension etched there banished by a regime of good food, afternoon naps and regular swimming sessions. When the local doctor had checked her blood pressure the day before, the reading had been normal and Nik believed that his decision to stay on Vesos had been fully vindicated. Here on the island, Betsy had nothing to do but get out of bed in the morning. Rest and relaxation had proved to be all she truly needed to regain her strength.

‘It never occurred to me that you would want to attend Belle’s party,’ he admitted levelly. ‘You’re doing so well here. I think we should stay on for at least another week.’

Betsy had stiffened defensively. ‘No, I can’t do that—’

‘Of course you can,’ Nik told her in a ‘subject closed’ tone of voice lightly tinged with impatience and dismissal. ‘Belle will understand that your health must come first—’

‘For goodness’ sake, there’s nothing wrong with me any more!’ Betsy argued, planting her hands firmly to the table and pushing herself upright as she thrust her chair back. ‘I’m feeling a lot better and you know it!’

Nik uncoiled his long, lean length from the seat opposite with a positively slothful grace that mocked her angry, impatient movements. ‘I don’t understand why you’re getting so annoyed—’

‘Of course you don’t. You’re too accustomed to me doing everything you ask!’ Betsy condemned, angry with him, angry with herself, for hadn’t she taken the path of least resistance too often in recent days? For almost a week she had been painfully sensible and she had followed all Mr Xenophon’s advice while at the same time taking on board Nik’s suggestions. ‘But I’m not going to go on acting like a doormat!’

His lean dark features hardened. ‘I have not treated you like a doormat—’

‘That’s what I used to behave like and how you’re used to dealing with me,’ Betsy reasoned bitterly. ‘But I’m not the same woman I was before you started the divorce, so laying down the law, giving me your opinion and making it clear what you want isn’t going to make me change my mind about what I want to do!’

Nik ignored that direct challenge and said instead, ‘Why is this party so important to you?’

‘Because it’s important to Belle and she and Cristo are family, not to mention my best friends...or haven’t you realised that?’ Betsy prompted, happily leaping off on another tangent because even before he had spoken she had not been in the best of moods. ‘Who do you think supported me when the divorce started? Your brother! Cristo was really, really good to me—’

Nik chose not to mention that he had encouraged that connection but he was taken aback by her vehemence. ‘Don’t think I’m not grateful for that—’

‘Like you cared at the time!’ Betsy slung back at him in furious rebuttal. ‘Cristo listened to me, talked to me, helped me through the worst period of my life. And Belle was generous enough to offer me her friendship from the very beginning—’

‘Well, she never offered it to me,’ Nik responded drily.

‘Belle resents the fact that you’ve never shown the smallest interest in her mother and your father’s children!’

‘I never knew Gaetano. Why would his other children interest me? It’s different with Cristo—he’s an adult and we have a genuine bond—’

‘Well, just you remember that those same children are going to be our babies’ uncles and aunts!’ Betsy reminded him tartly. ‘Let’s hope they feel friendlier towards our children in the future than you are to them.’

Lean dark features clenching hard, Nik gazed steadily back at her and slowly compressed his sculpted lips. ‘I hadn’t thought of that aspect. It does put a different complexion on the situation.’

Disconcerted by that concession though she was, Betsy made no comment. Instead she said, ‘Why are you always so negative about Gaetano Ravelli?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be? As a father, he was an embarrassment. He lived off women like a gigolo—’

‘But he was married to your mother, Cristo’s mother and Zarif’s,’ she contradicted in surprise at his opinion.

‘Surely you must have appreciated that Gaetano only ever married rich women for what he could get out of them? He got no money from my mother solely because their beach wedding in South America wasn’t legal,’ Nik advanced with derision. ‘Helena deliberately neglected to file the right documents because she already suspected Gaetano of infidelity with Cristo’s mother. Once she had the proof of it, she got rid of him and he couldn’t claim a penny from her. How can you expect me to have any respect for a man that calculating and greedy?’

‘Well, hopefully Gaetano’s children by Belle’s mother will grow up into decent people. You shouldn’t hold their parentage against them. After all, you don’t hold it against Cristo or Zarif,’ she reminded him.

His mobile phone rang and she walked away, leaving him to answer it, and went out to the terrace. There she perched on a low wall to listen to the distant sound of the surf washing the shore beyond the trees while striving to breathe in deep and let her bad mood simply evaporate.

His unbuttoned shirt blowing back in the breeze, Nik strolled along the terrace talking on the phone in measured Greek. His strong shoulder muscles bunched and kicked back as he gave a languorous stretch, arching his long spine so that his washboard abs pulled tight into mouth-watering definition. Betsy couldn’t take her eyes off his spectacular body or the downy little furrow of hair that swam into view above his shorts as he breathed in, chest swelling, stomach tightening, causing the waistband to drop even lower on his lean brown hips. Heat flooded her face and her body and, half angry, half amused at her own behaviour, she tore her gaze from him and stared out into the darkness instead.

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